Skip to main content

Full text of "Pilgrim's progress"

See other formats

R 3330 

,A2 B4 





^3 V 


• r^^V-^' . O 




Pilgrims Progress 


COPYRIGHT, 1890, 1917, BY 




QtC 27 1917 

qEfte gtftengiim 3regg 





This edition has been carefully edited and abridged 
for the use of schools. It includes a sketch of Bunyan's 
life and such brief footnotes as the text requires. The 
second part of the Pilgrim s Progress has been omitted, 
since, to quote the words of Froude, it is but " a feeble 
reverberation of the first." 



John Bunyan was born in Elstow, Bedfordshire, 
England, in 1628. Bunyan's father was a tinker, or 
mender of pots and kettles. Bunyan himself, was 
brought up to the same trade. He says, " My descent 
was of a low and inconsiderable generation, my father's 
house being of that rank that is meanest and most de- 
spised of all the families of the land." 

Bunyan learned reading and writing " according," he 
says, " to the rate of other poor men's children." That 
little he soon lost " almost utterly." 

When he reached the age of sixteen he appears to 
have served in one of the armies of the Civil War then 
raging in England between King Charles I. and the 
forces raised by Parliament ; but it is impossible to say 
with certainty whether he fought for or against the 
crown. At the close of the war Bunyan went back to 
Elstow and resumed his tinker's trade. 

He married when about twenty, and he tells us that 
he and his wife were " as poor as poor might be, with- 
out so much household stuff as a dish or spoon between 

In 1655 Bunyan moved to Bedford, a little more than 
a mile from Elstow. He had been converted, and now 
began to speak in public on matters of religion. Crowds 
came to hear the once blaspheming tinker who had 
turned preacher. But though the "common people 
heard him gladly," yet the country parsons and doctors 


of divinity were exceedingly wroth with this presumpt- 
uous tinker who "strove to mend souls as well as 
kettles and pans." 

On the restoration of Charles II. severe acts were 
passed against those who refused to attend the services 
of the Church of England. Bunyan, as an itinerant 
preacher of doctrines not fully in accord with that 
church, was especially obnoxious to those who upheld 
the law. As he refused to stop preaching, he was 
finally arrested and convicted of having " devilishly 
and perniciously abstained from coming to church." 
He was sentenced to the county jail, and there, with the 
exception of a short period, he remained a prisoner for 
twelve years (1660-1672). This jail or the town jail — 
for he seems to have been imprisoned in both — was the 
"den" of which he speaks in the opening lines of 
" Pilgrim's Progress ; " and if it was as filthy and as 
miserably kept as most prisons were at that time in 
England, then the word " den " exactly describes it. 

But in his marvellous dream of " A Pilgrimage from 
this World to the Next" (published in 1678), Bunyan 
forgot his squalid surroundings. Like Milton, in his 
blindness, loneliness, and poverty, he looked within and 
found that 

" The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a heaven of hell." 

Bunyan's chief writings besides " The Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress " were u The Life and Death of Mr. Badman," and 
" The Holy War ; " though he published in all about forty 
other books great and small, and after his death, in 1688, 
some ten or twelve more were issued bearing his name. 

Lord Macaulay says of Bunyan, " Though there 
were many clever men during the latter part of the 
seventeenth century, there were only two great creative 


minds. One of those minds produced the 4 Paradise 
Lost,' the other, the ' Pilgrim's Progress.' " 

But aside from its literary merit the "Pilgrim's 
Progress " is interesting for the glimpses it gives of the 
history of the times. " Vanity Fair " is said to have 
been suggested by the great fair at Sturbridge, near 
Cambridge, England, as Bunyan saw it, though of 
course only the dark side of it appears in the allegory. 

Again, as Macaulay remarks, there can be no reason- 
able doubt that the proceedings against Faithful at the 
fair are intended to satirize " the shameless partiality 
and ferocious insolence " of the judges in the state trials 
conducted under Charles II. 

" In fact," says the historian, " the imaginary trial of 
Faithful before a jury of personified vices was just and 
merciful when compared with the real trial of Lady 
Alice Lisle before that tribunal where all the vices sat 
in the person of Jeffries." 

We cannot close this sketch better than by quoting 
the last lines of Bunyan's quaint " Apology for his 
Book " : — 

" Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 

Oh then come hither, 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together." 

John Bunyan 

D II M. 




As I walked through the wilderness of this world, 
I lighted on a certain place where was a den, 1 and laid 
me down in that place to sleep ; and as I slept, I 
dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man 
clothed with rags standing in a certain place, with his 
face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great 
burden upon his back. I looked and saw him open the 
book, and read therein ; and as he read he wept and 
trembled ; and not being able longer to contain, he 
brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, " What shall 
I do?" 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and re- 
strained himself as long as he could, that his wife and 
children should not perceive his distress ; but he could 
not be silent long, because that his trouble increased. 
Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and 
children, and thus he began to talk to them. " Oh, my 
dear wife," said he, " and you the children of my heart, 
I, your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason 

1 Bedford Jail, England, in which the author was a prisoner for con- 
science' sake. See page vi. 



of a burden that lieth hard upon me ; moreover, I am 
certainly informed that this our city will be destroyed; 
in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with thee my 
wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to 
ruin, except (the which yet I see not) some way of 
escape can be found whereby we may be delivered." 
At this his relations were sore amazed ; not for that 
they believed that what he had said to them was true, 
but because they thought that some strange distemper 
had got into his head ; therefore, it drawing towards 
night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his 
brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the 
night was as troublesome to him as the day; where- 
fore, instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. 
So when the morning was come, they would know how 
he did. He told them, " Worse and worse ; " he also 
set to talking to them again ; but they began to be 
hardened. They also thought to drive away his distem- 
per by harsh and surly treatment of him; sometimes 
they would deride, sometimes they would chide, and 
sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore 
he began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for 
and pity them, and also to condole his own misery; he 
would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes read- 
ing, and sometimes praying ; and thus for some days 
he spent his time. 

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in 
the fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading in his 
book, and greatly distressed in his mind; and as he 
read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, 
" What shall I do to be saved ? " 

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as 
if he would run ; yet he stood still, because (as I per- 
ceived) he could not tell which way to go. I looked 


then, and saw a man named Evangelist 1 coming to him, 
and he said, " Wherefore dost thou cry? ' 

He answered, " Sir, I perceive, by the book in my 
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to 
come to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing to 
do the first, nor able to do the second." 

Then said Evangelist, " Why not willing to die, since 
this life is attended with so many evils ? " The man 
answered, " Because I fear that this burden that is upon 
my back will sink me lower than the grave. And, sir, 
if I be not fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to 
judgment, and from thence to execution; and the 
thoughts of these things make me cry." 

Then said Evangelist, " If this be thy condition, 
why standest thou still ? " He answered, " Because I 
know not whither to go." Then he gave him a roll of 
parchment, and there was written within, " Fly from 
the wrath to come." 

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evan- 
gelist very carefully, said, "Whither must I fly?'" 
Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a 
very wide field), " Do you see yonder wicket-gate ? " 2 
The man said, " No." Then said the other, " Do you 
see yonder shining light ? " He said, " 1 think I do." 
Then said Evangelist, " Keep that light in your eye, 
and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; 
at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee 
what thou shalt do." So I saw in my dream that the 
man began to run. Now he had not run far from his 
own door when his wife and children, perceiving it, be- 
gan to cry after him to return ; but the man put his 
fingers in his ears and ran on, crying : " Life ! life ! eter- 

1 Evangelist : Bringer of glad tidings ; bearer of the good news of God. 

2 Wicket-gate : A little gate or door. 


nal life ! " So he looked not behind him, but fled 
towards the middle of the plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run, and as 
he ran, some mocked, others threatened, and some cried 
after him to return ; and among those that did so, there 
were two *that resolved to fetch him back by force. 
The name of the one was Obstinate, and the name of 
the other Pliable. Now by this time the man was got 
a good distance from them, but, however, they were re- 
solved to pursue him, which they did, and in a little 
time they overtook him. Then said the man, " Neigh- 
bors, wherefore are ye come ? " They said, " To per- 
suade you to go back with us." But he said, "That 
can by no means be : you dwell," said he, " in the city 
of Destruction, the place also where I was born : I see 
it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later you will 
sink lower than the grave : be content, good neighbors, 
and go along with me." 

Obst. What, said Obstinate, and leave our friends 
and our comforts behind us ! 

Chr. Yes, said Christian (for that was his name), 
because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be 
compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy ; 
and if you will go along with me, and hold it, you shall 
fare as I myself ; for there, where I go, is enough and 
to spare. Come away, and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave 
all the world to find them? 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away ; and it is laid up in heaven, 
and safe there, to be bestowed, at the time appointed, 
on them that diligently seek it. Read it so, if you will, 
in my book. 



Obst. Nonsense, said Obstinate, away with your 
book : will you go back with us or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid 
my hand to the plough. 

Obst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn 
again, and go home without him : there is a company 
of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take a 
fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than seven 
men that can render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile ; if what good 
Christian says is true, the things he looks after are 
better than ours : my heart inclines to go with my 

Obst. What, more fools still ! Be ruled by me, and 
go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick fellow 
will lead you ? Go back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Nay, but do thou come with thy neighbor 
Pliable ; there are such things to be had which I spoke 
of, and many more glories besides. If you believe not 
me, read here in this book ; and for the truth of what is 
expressed therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood 
of Him that made it. 

Pli. Well, neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin 
to come to a point ; I intend to go along with this good 
man, and to cast in my lot with him ; but, my good 
companion, do you know the way to this desired place ? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan- 
gelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, 
where we shall receive instructions about the way. 

Pli. Come then, good neighbor, let us be going. 
Then they went both together. 

Obst. And I will go back to my place, said Obsti- 
nate ; I will be no companion of such misled, fantasti- 
cal fellows. 


Now I saw in my dream, that when Obstinate was 
gone back, Christian and Pliable went talking over the 
plain ; and thus they began their discourse. 

Chr. Come, neighbor Pliable, how do you do ? I 
am glad you are persuaded to go along with me. Had 
even Obstinate himself but felt what I have felt of the 
powers and terrors of what is yet unseen, he would not 
thus lightly have given us the back. 

Pli. Come, neighbor Christian, since there are 
none but us two here, tell me now further, what the 
things are, and how to be enjoyed, whither we are 

Chr. I can better conceive of them with my mind, 
than speak of them with my tongue ; but yet, since 
you are desirous to know, I will read of them in my 

Pli. And do you think that the words of your book 
are certainly true ? 

Chr. Yes, verily ; for it was made by Him that can- 
not lie. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear 
of these things : come on, let us mend our pace. 

Chr. I cannot go as fast as I would, by reason of 
this burden that is on my back. 

Now I saw in my dream that just as they had ended 
this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough that 
was in the midst of the plain : and they being heedless, 
did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the 
slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed 
for a time, being grievously bedaubed with dirt ; and 
Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, 
began to sink in the mire. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, 
where are you now ? 


Che. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and an- 
grily said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have 
told me all this while of? If we have such ill speed at 
our first setting out, what may we expect between this 
and our journey's end ? May I get out again with my 
life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. 
And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and 
got out of the mire on that side of the slough which 
was next to his own house : so away he went, and 
Christian saw him no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough 
of Despond alone ; but still he endeavored to struggle 
to that side of the slough that was farthest from his 
own house, and next to the wicket-gate ; the which he 
did, but could not get out because of the burden that 
was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that a 
man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked 
him what he did there. 

Chk. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way 
by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to 
yonder gate, that I might escape the wrath to come. 
And as I was going thither, I fell in here. 

Help. But why did not you look for the steps ? 

Cjhr. Fear followed me so hard that I fled the next 
way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he, Give me thine hand : so he gave 
him his hand, and he drew him out, and he set him 
upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and 
said, " Sir, wherefore, since over tiiis place is the way 
from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, that 
this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go 
thither with more security ? " And he said unto me, 


" This miry slough is such a place as cannot be mended ; 
it is the descent whither the scum and filth that at- 
tends conviction for sin doth continually run, and 
therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for still, 
as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, 
there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and dis- 
couraging apprehensions, which all of them get to- 
gether, and settle in this place : and this is the reason 
of the badness of this ground. 

" It is not the pleasure of the King that this place 
should remain so bad. His laborers also have, by the 
direction of his Majesty's surveyors, been for above these 
sixteen hundred years employed about this patch of 
ground, if perhaps it might have been mended — yea, 
and to my knowledge," said he, " there have been 
swallowed up at least twenty thousand cartloads, yea, 
millions of wholesome instructions, that have at all 
seasons been brought from all places of the King's 
dominions (and they that can tell, say, they are the best 
materials to make good ground of the place), if so be 
it might have been mended ; but it is the Slough of 
Despond still, and so will be when they have done what 
they can. 

" True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, 
certain good and substantial steps, placed even through 
the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this 
place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against 
change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if 
they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, step 
beside, and then they are bemired indeed, notwithstand- 
ing the steps be there : but the ground is good when 
they are once got in at the gate." 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable 
was got home to his house. So his neighbors came to 


visit him ; and some of them called him wise man for 
coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding 
himself with Christian : others again did mock at his 
cowardliness, saying, " Surely, since you began to ven- 
ture, I would not have been so base as to have given 
out for a few difficulties." So Pliable sat sneaking 
among them. But at last he got more confidence, and 
then they all turned their tales, and began to deride 
poor Christian behind his back. And thus much con- 
cerning Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, 
he espied one afar off come crossing over the field to 
meet him ; and their hap was to meet just as they were 
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's name 
that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman : he dwelt in 
the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, and also 
hard by from whence Christian came. This man then, 
meeting with Christian, and having some slight knowl- 
edge of him (for Christian's setting forth from the city 
of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only in the 
town where he dwelt, but also it began to be the town- 
talk in some other places) — Mr. Worldly Wiseman, 
therefore, having some guess of him, by beholding his 
laborious going, by observing his sighs and groans, and 
the like, began thus to enter into some talk with 

World. How now, good fellow, whither away after 
this burdened manner ? 

Chr. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think 
poor creature had ! And whereas you ask me, Whither 
away ? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket- 
gate before me ; for there, as I am informed, I shall be 
put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children ? 


Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden, that 
I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : me- 
thinks I am as if I had none. 

World. Wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee 

Chr. If it be good, I will ; for I stand in need of 
good counsel. 

World. I would advise thee, then, that thou with 
all speed get thyself rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt 
never be settled in thy mind till then : nor canst thou 
enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath be- 
stowed upon thee till then. 

Chr. That, is that which I seek for, even to be rid of 
this heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot, nor is 
there any man in our country that can take it off my 
shoulders ; therefore I am going this way, as I told you, 
that I may be rid of my burden. 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
burden ? 

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great 
and honorable person : his name, as I remember, is 

World. I beshrew x him for his counsel ! There is 
not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the world 
than is that into which he hath directed thee ; and that 
thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his counsel. 
Thou has met with something, as I perceive, already ; 
for T see the dirt of the Slough of Despond is upon 
thee : but that slough is the beginning of the sorrows 
that do attend those that go on in that way. Hear me : 
I am older than thou : thou art like to meet with, in 
the way which thou goest, wearisomeness, painfulness, 
hunger, perils, nakedness, sword, lions, dragons, dark- 

Beshrew : To wish a curse to. 



ness, and, in a word, death, and what not. These things 
are certainly true, having been confirmed by many testi- 
monies. And should a man so carelessly cast away 
himself, by giving heed to a stranger? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden on my back is more ter- 
rible to me than all these things which you have men- 
tioned : nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in 
the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from 
my burden. 

World. How earnest thou by thy burden at first ? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so ; and it has happened unto 
thee as to other weak men, who, meddling with things 
too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distractions ; 
which distractions do not only unman men, as thine I 
perceive have done thee, but they run them upon des- 
perate ventures, to obtain they know not what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from 
my heavy burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, 
seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since 
(hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct 
thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without the 
dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into. 
Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, 
that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with 
much safety, friendship, and content. 

Chr. I pray open this secret to me. 

World. Why, in yonder village (the village is named 
Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name is Le- 
gality, 1 a very judicious man, and a man of a very good 
name, that has skill to help men off with such burdens 
as thine is from their shoulders ; yea, to my knowledge, 

1 Legality : here, Good Works. 


he hath done a great deal of good this way ; aye, and 
besides, he hath skill to cure those that are somewhat 
crazed in their wits with their burdens. To him, as I 
said, thou mayest go and be helped presently. His 
house is not quite a mile from this place ; and if he 
should not be at home himself, he hath a nice young 
man for his son, whose name is Civility, that can do it 
(to speak on) as well as the old gentleman himself : 
there, I say, thou mayest be eased of thy burden ; and 
if thou art not minded to go back to thy former habi- 
tation (as indeed I would not wish thee), thou mayest 
send for thy wife and children to this village, where 
there are houses now standing empty, one of which 
thou mayest have at a reasonable rate : provision is 
there also cheap and good ; and that which will make 
thy life the more happy is, to be sure there thou shalt 
live by honest neighbors, in credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but pres- 
ently he concluded, If this be true which this gentle- 
man hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice ; 
and with that he thus further spake. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's 
house ? 

World. Do you see yonder high hill ? 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first 
house you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. 
Legality's house for help : but, behold, when he was got 
now hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also that 
side of it that was next the wayside did hang so much 
over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, lest 
the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there he 
stood still, and knew not what to do. Also his bur- 


den now seemed heavier to him than while he was in 
his way. There came also flashes of fire out of the 
hill, that made Christian afraid that he should be burnt ; 
here therefore he did sweat and quake for fear. And 
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman's counsel; and with that he saw Evangelist 
coming to meet him, at the sight also of whom he 
began to blush with shame. So Evangelist drew nearer 
and nearer ; and coming up to him, he looked upon 
him, with a severe and dreadful countenance, and thus 
be^an to reason with Christian. 

Evan. What doest thou here, Christian ? said he : 
at which words Christian knew not what to answer ; 
wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. 
Then said Evangelist further, Art not thou the man 
that I found crying without the walls of the city of 
Destruction ? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little 

Chr. Yes, clear sir, said Christian. 

Evan. How is it, then, thou art so quickly turned 
aside ? For thou art now out of thy way. 

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got 
over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that 
I might, in the village before me, find a man that could 
take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he ? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much 
to me, and got me at last to yield : so I came hither : 
and when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the 
way, I suddenly made a stand, lest it should fall on my 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 


Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and 
I told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family ; and I told 
him. But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that 
is on my back, that I cannot take pleasure in them as 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden ; 
and I told him it was ease that I sought. And, said I, 
I am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further 
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. 
So he said that he would show me a better way, and 
short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, 
that you set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you 
to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these 
burdens : so I believed him, and turned out of that way 
into this, if haply I might be soon eased of my bur- 
den. But when I came to this place, and beheld things 
as they are, I stopped, for fear (as I said) of danger : 
but I now know not what to do. 

Evan. Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, 
that I show thee the words of God. So he stood trem- 
bling. Then said Evangelist, " See that ye refuse not 
Him that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused 
him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, 
if we turn away from Him that speaketh from heaven." 

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, 
Woe is me, for I am undone ! At the sight of which 
Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All 
manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto 
men." " Be not faithless, but believing." Then did 
Christian again a little revive, and stood up trembling, 
as at first, before Evangelist. 



Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more ear- 
nest heed to the things that I shall tell thee. I will 
now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who 
it was also to whom he sent thee. The man that met 
thee is one Worldly Wiseman, and rightly is he so 
called ; partly because he knoweth only the doctrine of 
this world (therefore he always goes to the town of 
Morality to church) ; and because he is of this worldly 
temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, 
though right. Now there are three things thou must 
utterly abhor. 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 

2. His laboring to render the cross odious to thee. 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth 
unto death. 

This Legality, therefore, is not able to set thee free 
from thy burden. No man was as yet ever rid of his 
burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be : ye can not 
be justified by the works of the law ; for by the deeds 
of the law no man living can be rid of his burden. 
Therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is au alien, 1 and Mr. 
Legality is a cheat ; and for his son Civility, notwith- 
standing his simpering looks, he is but a hypocrite, and 
can not help thee. Believe me, there is nothing in all 
this noise that thou hast heard of these foolish men, 
but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, by turn- 
ing thee from the way in which I set thee. After this, 
Evangelist called aloud to the heavens for confirmation 
of what he had said ; and with that there came words 
and fire out of the mountain under which poor Chris- 
tian stood, which made the hair of his flesh stand up. 
The words were pronounced ; " As many as are of the 
works of the law, are under the curse ; for it is written, 

1 Alien : Foreigner or heathen. 


Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things 
which are written in the book of the law to do them." 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and be- 
gan to cry out lamentably, even cursing the time in 
which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling 
himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. 
He was also greatly ashamed to think that this gentle- 
man's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should 
have the prevalency with him so far as to cause him to 
forsake the right way. This done, he applied himself 
again to Evangelist in words and sense as follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope? 
May I now go back, and go up to the wicket-gate? Shall 
I not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence 
ashamed ? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's 
counsel; but may my sin be forgiven? 

Evan. Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very 
great, for by it thou hast committed two evils : thou 
hast forsaken the way that is good, to tread in forbid- 
den paths. Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, 
for he has good-will for men ; only, said he, take heed 
that thou turn not aside again, lest thou "perish from 
the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little." 




Then did Christian address himself to go back ; and 
Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him one 
smile and bid him God speed ; so he went on with 
haste, neither spake he to any man by the way ; nor if 
any man asked him, would he vouchsafe them an 
answer. He went like one that was all the while 
treading on forbidden ground, and could by no means 
think himself safe, till again he was got into the way 
which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's 
counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up to 
the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, 
" Knock, and it shall be opened unto you." 

He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice. At 
last there came a grave person to the gate, named 
Goodwill, who asked who was there, and whence he 
came, and what he would have. 

Che,. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from 
the city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, 
that I may be delivered from the wrath to come. I 
would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this 
gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let 
me in. 

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he ; and 
with that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave 
him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that ? 
The other told him, A little distance from this gate 
there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is 
the captain ; from whence both he and they that are 


with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this 
gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in. 
Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when 
he was got in, the man at the gate asked him who 
directed him thither. 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as 
I did: and he said, that you, sir, would tell me what I 
must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man 
can shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their dan- 
ger as I saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming? 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the 
first, and called after me to turn again : also some of 
my neighbors stood crying and calling after me to re- 
turn ; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on 
my way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to per- 
suade you to go back ? 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable ; but when 
they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went 
railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through ? 

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came 
to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also sud- 
denly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable dis- 
couraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore, 
getting out again on the side next to his own house, he 
told me 1 should possess the brave country alone for 
him ; so he went his way, and I came mine ; he after 
Obstinate, and I to this gate. 


Good. Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ; is the 
celestial glory of so little esteem with him, that he 
counteth it not worth running the hazard of a few diffi- 
culties to obtain it ? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of 
Pliable ; and if I should also say all the truth of my- 
self, it will appear there is no betterment betwixt him 
and myself. It is true, he went back to his own house, 
but I also turned aside to go into the way of death, be- 
ing persuaded thereto by the worldly argument of one 
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. 

Good. Oh, did he light upon you ? What, he would 
have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legal- 
ity ! They are both of them a very cheat. But did 
you take his counsel ? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. 
Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands 
by his house would' have fallen upon my head ; where- 
fore there was I forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, 
and will be the death of many more : it is well you es- 
caped being clashed in pieces by it. 

Chr. Why truly I do not know what had become 
of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again 
as I was musing in the midst of my dumps ; but it was 
God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had 
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as 
I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, than 
thus to stand talking with my Lord. But oh, what a 
favor is this to me ; that yet I am admitted entrance 

here ! 

Good. We make no objections against any, notwith- 
standing all that they have done before they come 
hither; they in nowise are cast out. And therefore, 


good Christian, come a little way with me, and I will 
teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before 
thee ; dost thou see this narrow way ? That is the way 
thou must go. It was cast up by the patriarchs, 
prophets, Christ, and his apostles, and it is as straight 
as a rule can make it ; this is the way thou must go. 

Che. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor 
windings, by which a stranger may lose his way ? 

Good. Yes, there are many ways lead out from this, 
and they are crooked and wide : but thus thou mayest 
distinguish the right from the wrong, the right only 
being straight and narrow. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him 
further, if he could not help him off with his burden 
that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got rid 
thereof ; nor could he by any means get it off without 

He told him, " As to thy burden, be content to bear 
it until thou comest to the place of deliverance ; for 
there it will fall from thy back of itself." 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 
address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 
that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, 
he would come to the house of the Interpreter, 1 at 
whose door he should knock, and he would show him 
excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his 
friend, and he again bid him God speed. 

Then he went on till he came at the house of the 
Interpreter, where he knocked over and over. At last 
one came to the door, and asked who was there. 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an ac- 
quaintance of the good man of this house to call here 

1 Interpreter : The Holy Spirit. 


for my profit ; I would therefore speak with the master 
of the house. 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after 
a little time, came to Christian, and asked him what 
he would have. 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come 
from the city of Destruction, and am going to the 
Mount Zion ; and I was told by the man that stands at 
the gate at the head of this way, that if I called here 
you would show me excellent things, such as would be 
helpful to me on my journey. 

Inter. Then said Interpreter, Come in ; I will show 
thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he com- 
manded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian 
follow him. So he had him into a private room, and 
bid his man open a door ; the which when he had done, 
Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hang- 
ing up against the wall ; and this was the fashion of it : 
it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of books in its 
hand, the law of truth was written upon its lips, the 
world was behind its back ; it stood as if it pleaded 
with men, and a crown of gold did hang over its head. 

Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this 
picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is 
the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou 
art going hath authorized to be thy guide in all diffi- 
cult places thou mayest meet with in the way : where- 
fore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and 
bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy 
journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee 
right, but their way goes down to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a 
very large parlor that was full of dust, because never 
swept ; the which after he reviewed it a little while, 


the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when 
he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to 
fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been 
choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that 
stood by, " Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room ; " 
the which when she had done, it was swept and 
cleansed with pleasure. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What means this ? 

Inter. The Interpreter answered, This parlor is 
the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the 
sweet grace of the Gospel. The dust is his original 
sin, and inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole 
man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law ; but 
she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gos- 
pel. Now whereas thou sawest, that so soon as the 
first began to sweep, the dust did so fly about that the 
room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast 
almost choked therewith ; this is to show thee, that the 
Law, instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) 
from sin, doth revive, put strength into and increase it 
in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it ; for 
it doth not give power to subdue. Again, as thou saw- 
est the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon 
which it was cleansed with pleasure, this is to show 
thee, that when the Gospel comes, in the sweet and 
precious influences thereof, to the heart, then, I say, 
even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprink- 
ling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and sub- 
dued, and the soul made clean through the faith of it, 
and consequently fit for the King of glory to inhabit. 

I saw moreover in my dream that the Interpreter 
took him by the hand, and led him into a little room, 
where sat two little children, each one in his chair. 
The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of 


the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much dis- 
contented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Christian 
asked, " What is the reason of the discontent of 
Passion ? " The Interpreter answered, " The governor 
of them would have him stay for his best things till the 
beginning of the next year, but he will have all now ; 
but Patience is willing to wait. 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought 
him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet : 
the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal 
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, 
and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him 
but rags. 

Chr. Then said Christian to the Interpreter, ex- 
pound this matter more fully to me. 

Inter. So he said, These two lads are figures; 
Passion of the men of this world, and Patience of the 
men of that which is to come ; for, as here thou seest, 
Passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in 
this world ; so are the men of this world : they must 
have all their good things now ; they cannot stay till 
the next year, that is, until the next world, for their 
portion of good. That proverb, " A bird in the hand is 
worth two in the bush," is of more authority with them 
than are all the divine testimonies of the good of the 
world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly 
lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing 
but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of 
this world. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience 
has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 
1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also 
because he will have the glory of his, when the other 
has nothing but rags. 


Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory 
of the next world will never wear out ; but these are 
suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much 
reason to laugh at Patience because he had his good 
things first as Patience will have to laugh at Passion 
because he had his best things last, for first must give 
place to last, because last must have his time to come ; 
but last gives place to nothing, for there is not another 
to succeed. He, therefore, that hath his portion first, 
must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath 
his portion last, must have it lastingly : therefore it is 
said of Dives, " In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy 
good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things : but now 
he is comforted and thou art tormented." 

Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things 
that are now ; but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say truth : for the things that are 
seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are 
eternal. But though this be so, yet since things pres- 
ent and our bodily appetite are such near neighbors one 
to another ; and again, because things to come and 
worldly sense are such strangers one to another ; there- 
fore it is, that the first of these so suddenly fall into 
agreement, and that distance is so continued between 
the second. 

Then I saw in my dream that the Interpreter took 
Christian by the hand and led him into a j)lace where 
was a fire burning against a Avail, and one standing by 
it, always casting much water upon it to quench it ; yet 
did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of 
grace that is wrought in the heart; he that casts water 
upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the Evil One ; 


but in that thou seest the fire, notwithstanding, burn 
higher and hotter, thou shall also see the reason of that. 
So he had him about to the back side of the wall, where 
he saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the 
which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into 
the fire. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who con- 
tinually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work 
already begun in the heart ; by the means of which, 
notwithstanding what the Evil One can dcj, the souls 
of his people prove gracious still. And in that thou 
sawest that the man stood behind the wall to maintain 
the fire ; this is to teach thee, that it is hard for the 
tempted to see how this work of grace is maintained in 
the soul. 

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him again by the 
hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was 
built a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the sight 
of which Christian was greatly delighted. He saw also 
upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who were 
clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither ? 

Then the Interpreter took him, and Jed him up 
towards the door of the palace ; and behold, at the 
door stood a great company of men, as desirous to go 
in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little dis- 
tance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and 
his inkstand before him, to take the names of them that 
should enter therein ; he saw also that in the doorway 
stood many men in armor to keep it, being resolved to 
do to the men that would enter, what hurt and mischief 
they could. Now was Christian somewhat in amaze. 
At last when every man started back for fear of the 


armed men, Christian saw a man of a very stout coun 
tenance come up to the man that sat there to write, 
saying, " Set down my name, sir ; " the which, when he 
had done, he saw the man draw his sword, and put a 
helmet on his head, and rush towards the door upon the 
armed men, who laid upon him with deadly force ; but 
the man, not at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hack- 
ing most fiercely. So after he had received and given 
many wounds to those that attempted to keep him out, 
he cut his way through them all, and pressed forward 
into the palace ; at which there was a pleasant voice 
heard from those that were within, even of those that 
walked upon the top of the palace, saying, 

" Come, come in, 

Eternal glory thou shalt win." 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as 
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think veril}' 
I know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, let me go hence. Nay, stay, 
said the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little 
more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. So he 
took him by the hand again, and led him into a very 
dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad ; he sat 
with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands 
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break his 
heart. Then said Christian, What means this ? At 
which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? 
The man answered, I am what I was not once. 

Che,. What wast thou once ? 

Man. The man said, I was once a fair and flourish- 
ing professor of religion, both in mine own eyes, and also 


in the eyes of others : I once was, as I thought, fair for 
the celestial city, and had then even joy at the thoughts 
that I should get thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now ? 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up 
in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out ; oh, now I 
cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou into this condition ? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober ; I gave way 
to all my desires ; I sinned against the light of the 
world, and the goodness of God; I have grieved the 
Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted the Evil One, and he 
is come to me ; I have provoked God to anger, and he 
has left me : I have so hardened my heart, that I cannot 

Inter. Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let 
this man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an 
everlasting caution to thee. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help 
me to watch and to be sober, and to pray that I may 
shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it not time 
for me to go on my way now? 

Inter. Tarry till I show thee one thing more, and 
then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again and led him 
into a chamber where there was one rising out of bed ; 
and as he put on his raiment, he shook and trembled. 
Then said Christian, Why doth this man thus tremble ? 
The Interpreter then bid him tell to Christian the rea- 
son of his so doing. 

So he began, and said, " This night, as I was in my 
sleep, I dreamed, and behold the heavens grew exceed- 
ing black ; also it thundered and lightened in most 
fearful wise, that it put me into an agony. So I looked 


up in my dream, and saw the clouds move at an unusual 
rate ; upon which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, 
and saw also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with 
the thousands of heaven : they were all in flaming 
fire ; also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard 
then a voice, saying, ' Arise, ye dead, and come to judg- 
ment.' And with that the rocks rent, the graves 
opened, and the dead that were therein came forth : 
some of them were exceeding glad, and looked upward ; 
and some sought to hide themselves under the moun- 

Che,. But what was it that made you so afraid of 
this sight ? 

Man. Why, I thought that the day of judgment was 
come, and that I was not ready for it : but this fright- 
ened me most, that the angels gathered up several, and 
left me behind. My conscience, too, afflicted me ; and, 
as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, 
showing indignation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, " Hast thou 
considered all these things ? " 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that 
they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee for- 
ward in the way thou must go. Then Christian began 
to gird up his loins, and to address himself to his jour- 
ney. Then said the Interpreter, " The Comforter be 
always with thee, good Christian, to guide thee in the 
way that leads to the city." So Christian went on his 




Now I saw in my dream, that the highway up which 
Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a 
wall, and that wall was called Salvation. Up this way, 
therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not without 
great difficulty, because of the load on his back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascend- 
ing ; and upon that place stood a cross, and a little 
below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my 
dream, that just as Christian came up with the cross, 
his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from 
off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to 
do till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it 
fell in, and I saw it no more. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said 
with a merry heart, " He hath given me rest by his 
sorrow, and life by his death." Then he stood still a 
while, to look and wonder ; for it was very surprising 
to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease him 
of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked again, 
even till the springs that were in his head sent the 
waters down his cheeks. Now as he stood looking and 
weeping, behold, three Shining Ones came to him, and 
saluted him with, " Peace be to thee." So the first 
said to him, " Thy sins be forgiven thee ; " the second 
stripped him of his rags, and clothed him with change 
of raiment ; the third also set a mark on his forehead, 
and gave him a roll 1 with a seal upon it, which he bid 

1 Roll : See page 32. 



him look on as he ran, and that he should give it in 
at the celestial gate : so they went their way. Then 
Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on singing. 

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even 
until he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out 
of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon 
their heels. The name of the one was Simple, of an- 
other Sloth, and of the third, Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went to 
them, if peradventure he might awake them, and cried, 
You are like them that sleep on the top of a mast, for 
the Dead Sea is under you, a gulf that hath no bottom : 
awake, therefore, and come away ; be willing also, and 
I will help you off with your irons. He also told them, 
If he that goeth about like a roaring lion comes by, 
you will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With 
that they looked upon him, and began to reply in this 
sort : Simple said, I see no danger ; Sloth said, Yet a 
little more sleep ; and Presumption said, Every tub 
must stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay 
down to sleep again, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet he was troubled to think that men in that dan- 
ger should so little esteem the kindness of him that so 
freely offered to help them, both by awakening of them, 
counselling of them, and proffering to help them off 
with their irons. And as he was troubled thereabout, 
he espied two men coming tumbling over the wall, on 
the left hand of the narrow way ; and they made up 
apace to him. The name of the one was Formalist, and 
the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, as I said, they 
drew up unto him, who thus entered with them into 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither 
do you go? 


Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land of Vain- 
glory, and are going, for praise, to Mount Zion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which stand- 
eth at the beginning of the way ? Know ye not that 
it is written, that " he that cometh not in by the door, 
but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and 
a robber " ? 

Form, and Hyp. They said, that to go to the gate 
for entrance was by all their countrymen counted too 
far about ; and that therefore their usual way was to 
make a short cut of it, and to climb over the wall, as 
they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against 
the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to 
violate his revealed will? 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that as for that, 
he needed not to trouble his head thereabout ; for what 
they did they had custom for, and could produce, if 
need were, testimony that would Avitness it for more 
than a. thousand j^ears. 

Chr. But, said Christian, will you stand a trial at 

Form, and Hyp. They told him, that custom, it 
being of so long standing as above a thousand years, 
would doubtless now be admitted as a thing lawful by an 
impartial judge: and besides, said they, if we get into 
the way, what matter is it which way we get in ? If 
we are in, we are in : thou art but in the way, who, as 
we perceive, came in at the gate ; and we also are in 
the way, that came tumbling over the wall : wherein 
now is thy condition better than ours ? 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master : you walk 
by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted 
thieves already by the Lord of the way: therefore I 

3 2 


think you will not be found true men at the end of the 
way. You come in by yourselves without his direction, 
and shall go out by yourselves without his mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; only they 
bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went 
on, every man in his way, without much conference one 
with another, save that these two men told Christian, 
that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not but 
that they should as conscientiously do them as he. 
Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest 
from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which w r as, 
as we think, given thee by some of thy neighbors. 

Chr. By laws and ordinances you will not be 
saved, since you came not in by the door. And as 
for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by the 
Lord of the place whither I go. And I take it as a 
token of kindness to me; for I had nothing but rags 
before. And besides, thus I comfort myself as I go. 
Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the city, 
the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I have 
his coat on my back ; a coat that he gave me freely 
in the day that he stripped me of my rags. I have, 
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps 
you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's most 
intimate associates fixed there in the day that my 
burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, more- 
over, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to com- 
fort me by reading as I go on the way ; I was also bid 
to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my cer- 
tain going in after it : all which things I think you want, 
and want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer ; only they 
looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I saw 
that they all went on, save that Christian kept before, 



who had no more talk but with himself, and that some- 
times sighingly, and sometimes comfortably : also he 
would be often reading in the roll that one of the Shin- 
ing Ones gave him, by which he was refreshed. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came 
to the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which 
there was a spring. There were also in the same place 
two other ways besides that which came straight from 
the gate : one turned to the left hand, and the other to 
the right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow 
way lay right up the hill, and the name of the going 
up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian 
now went to the spring, and drank thereof to refresh 
himself, and then began to go up the hill. 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But 
when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and 
that there were two other ways to go ; and supposing 
also that these two ways might meet again with that 
up which Christian went, on the other side of the hill ; 
therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now 
the name of one of those ways was Danger, and the 
name of the other Destruction. So the one took the 
way which is called Danger, which led him into a great 
wood; and the other took directly up the way to 
Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of 
dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose 
no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the 
hill, where I perceived he fell from running to going, 
and from going to clambering upon his hands and his 
knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now 
about midway to the top, of the hill was a pleasant 
arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refresh- 
ment of weary travellers. Thither, therefore, Christian 


got, where also he sat down to rest him : then he pulled 
his roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his com- 
fort ; he also now began afresh to take a review of the 
coat or garment that was given to him as he stood by 
the cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at last fell 
into a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which de- 
tained him in that place until it was almost night ; and 
in his sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now, as he 
was sleeping, there came one unto him, and awaked 
him, saying, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider 
her ways, and be wise." And with that, Christian 
suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, and 
went apace till he came to the top of the hill. 

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, 
there came two men running hard ; the name of the 
one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust : to whom 
Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter? you run the 
wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were going to 
the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult place : but, 
said he, the farther we go, the more danger we meet 
with ; wherefore we turned, and are going back again. 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of 
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we knoAV 
not ; and we could not think, if we came within reach, 
but they would presently pull us in pieces. 

Che. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; 
but whither shall I fly to be safe ? If I go back to my 
own country, I shall certainly perish there; if I can get 
to the celestial city, I am sure to be in safety there : I 
must venture. To go back is nothing but death : to go 
forward is fear of death and life everlasting bevoncl it : 
I will yet go forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran 
down the hill, and Christian went on his way. But 
thinking again of what he had heard from the men, he 


felt in his bosom for his roll, that he might read there- 
in and be comforted ; but he felt, and found it not. 
Then was Christian in great distress, and knew not 
what to do ; for he wanted that which used to relieve 
him, and that which should have been his pass into the 
celestial city. Here, therefore, he began to be much 
perplexed, and knew not what to do. At last he be- 
thought himself that he had slept in the arbor that is 
on the side of the hill ; and falling down upon his 
knees, he asked God's forgiveness for that foolish act, 
and then went back to look for his roll. But all the 
way he went back, who can sufficiently set forth the 
sorrow of Christian's heart ? Sometimes he sighed, 
sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he chid himself for 
being so foolish as to fall asleep in that place, which was 
erected only for a little refreshment from his weari- 
ness. Thus, therefore, he went back, carefully looking 
on this side and on that, all the way as he went, if 
happily he might find his roll, that had been his com- 
fort so many times on his journey. He went thus till 
he came again within sight of the arbor, where he sat 
and slept ; but that sight renewed his sorrow the more, 
by bringing again, even afresh, his evil of sleeping unto 
his mind. Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing 
his sinful sleep, saying, Oh, wretched man that I am, 
that I should sleep in the daytime ! that I should sleep 
in the midst of difficulty ! that I should so indulge the 
flesh as to use that rest for ease to my flesh which the 
Lord of the hill hath erected only for the relief of 
the spirits of pilgrims ! How many steps have I taken 
in vain ! Thus it happened to Israel ; for their sin they 
were sent back again by the way of the Red Sea ; and 
I am made to tread those steps with sorrow, which I 
might have trod with delight, had it not been for this 



sinful sleep. How far might I have been on my way by 
this time ! I am made to tread those steps thrice over, 
which I needed not to have trod but once : yea, now also 
I am like to be benighted, for the day is almost spent. 
Oh, that I had not slept ! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, 
where for a while he sat down and wept ; but at last 
(as Providence would have it), looking sorrowfully down 
under the seat, there he espied his roll, the which he 
with trembling and haste catched up, and put it into 
his bosom. But who can tell how joyful this man was 
when he had gotten his roll again ? For this roll was 
the assurance of his life, and acceptance at the desired 
haven. Therefore he laid it up in his bosom, gave 
thanks to God for directing his eye to the place where 
it lay, and with joy and tears betook himself again to 
his journey. But oh, how nimbly did he go up the 
rest of the hill ! Yet before he got up, the sun went 
down upon Christian ; and this made him again recall 
the vanity of his sleeping to his remembrance ; and 
thus he again began to condole with himself : Oh, thou 
sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be benighted 
in my journey ! I must walk without the sun, darkness 
must cover the path of my feet, and I must hear the 
noise of the doleful creatures, because of my sinful 
sleep! Now also he remembered the story that Mis- 
trust and Timorous told him of, how they were fright- 
ened with the sight of the lions. Then said Christian 
to himself again, These beasts range in the night for 
their prey, and if they should meet with me in the 
dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape 
being by them torn in pieces ? Thus he went on his 
way. But while he was bewailing his unhappy mis- 
conduct, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, there was a 


very stately palace before him, the name of which was 
Beautiful, and it stood by the highway-side. 

So I saw in my dream that he made haste, and went 
forward, that if possible he might get lodging there. 
Now before he had gone far, he entered into a very 
narrow passage, which was about a furlong off the 
Porter's lodge ;* and looking very narrowly before him 
as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, 
thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and 
Timorous were driven back by. (The lions were 
chained, but he saw not the chains.) Then he was 
afraid, and thought also himself to go back after them ; 
for he thought nothing but death was before him. But 
the Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, per- 
ceiving that Christian made a halt, as if he would go 
back, cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small ? 
Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed 
there for trial of faith where it is, and for discovery of 
those that have none : keep in the midst of the path, 
and no hurt shall come unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on, trembling for fear of 
the lions, but taking good heed to the directions of 
the Porter ; he heard them roar, but they did him no 
harm. Then he clapped his hands, and went on till 
he came and stood before the gate where the Porter 
was. Then said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what 
house is this? and may I lodge here to-night? The 
Porter answered, This house was built by the Lord of 
the hill, and he built it for the relief and security of 
pilgrims. The Porter also asked whence he was and 
whither he was going. 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, and 

1 Porter's lodge : A house occupied by the porter who kept the gate of the 
entrance to the palace grounds. 


am going to Mount Zion : but because the sun is now 
set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Poet. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at 
the first was Graceless. 

Port. But how does it happen that you come so 
late ? The sun is set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched 
man that I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on 
the hillside ! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been 
here much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my 
roll, and came without it to the brow of the hill ; and 
then feeling for it, and not finding it, I was forced with 
sorrow of heart to go back to the place where I slept 
my sleep, where I found it ; and now I am come. 

Port. Well, I will call out one of the maidens of 
this place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in 
to the rest of the family, according to the rules of the 
house. So Watchful the porter rang a bell, at the 
sound of which came out of the door of the house a 
grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and 
asked why she was called. 

The Porter answered, This man is on a journey 
from the city of Destruction to Mount Zion; but 
being weary and benighted, he asked me if he might 
lodge here to-night : so I told him I would call for 
thee, who, after discourse had with him, mayest do as 
seemeth thee good, even according to the law of the 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
was going ; and he told her. She asked him, also, how 
he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked 
him what he had seen and met with in the way, and 
he told her. And at last she asked his name. So he 



said, It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a 
desire to lodge here to-night, because, by what I per- 
ceive, this place was built by the Lord of the hill for 
the relief and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but 
the water stood in her eyes ; and, after a little pause, 
she said, I will call forth two or three more of the 
family. So she ran to the door, and called out Pru- 
dence, Piety, and Charity, who, after a little more dis- 
course with him, had him into the family; and many 
of them meeting him at the threshold of the house, 
said, Come in, thou blessed of the Lord : this house 
was built by the Lord of the hill on purpose to enter- 
tain such pilgrims in. Then he bowed his head, and 
followed them into the house. So when he was come 
in and sat down, they gave him something to drink, 
and consented together that, until supper was ready, 
some of them should have some particular discourse 
with Christian, for the best improvement of time; and 
they appointed Piety, Prudence, and Charity to dis- 
course with him. 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking 
together until supper was ready. So when they had 
made ready, they sat down to meat. Now the table 
was furnished with nice things, and with excellent wine, 
and all their talk at the table was about the Lord of 
the hill, about what he had done, and wherefore he did 
what he did, and why he had builded that house ; and 
by what they said, I perceived that he had been a great 
warrior, and had fought with and slain him that had the 
power of death ; but not without great danger to him- 
self, which made me love him the more. 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night ; 
and after they had committed themselves to their Lord 
for protection, they betook themselves to rest. The 



pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose win- 
dow opened towards the sun-rising. The name of the 
chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, 
and then he awoke and sang. So in the morning they 
all got up ; and, after some more discourse, they told 
him that he should not depart till they had shown him 
the rarities of that place. And first they had him into 
the study, where they showed him records of the 
greatest antiquity ; in which, as I remember my dream, 
they showed him that the Lord of the hill was the Son 
of the Ancient of days. Here also was more fully 
recorded the acts that he had done, and the names of 
many hundreds that he had taken into his service ; and 
how he had placed them in such habitations that could 
neither be harmed by length of days, nor decays of 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that 
some of his servants had done ;' how they had sub- 
dued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained prom- 
ises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence 
of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness 
were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, and turned 
to flight the armies of the aliens. 

Then they read again another part of the records of 
the house, where it was shown how willing their Lord 
was to receive into his favor any, even any, though 
they in time past had offered great affronts to his per- 
son and proceedings. Here also were several other 
histories of many other famous things, of all which 
Christian had a view, as of things both ancient and 
modern, together with prophecies and predictions of 
things that have their certain accomplishment, both to 
the dread and amazement of enemies, and the comfort 
and solace of pilgrims. 


The next day they took him, and had him into the 
armory, where they showed him all manner of equip- 
ments which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as 
sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, of all-prayer, and 
shoes that would not wear out. And there was here 
enough of this to harness l out as many men for the 
service of their Lord as there be stars in the heaven for 

They also showed him some of the things with 
which some of his servants had done wonderful deeds. 
They showed him Moses' rod ; the hammer and nail 
with which Jael slew Sisera; the pitchers, trumpets, 
and lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the 
armies of Midian. Then they showed him the ox-goad 
wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They 
showed him also the jawbone with which Samson did 
such mighty feats. They showed him, moreover, the 
sling and stone with which David slew Goliah of Gath ; 
they showed him, besides, many excellent things, with 
which Christian was much delighted. This done, they 
went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he 
got up to go forward, but they desired him to stay till 
the next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the 
day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; 
which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, 
because they were nearer the desired haven than the 
place where at present he was ; so he consented and 
stayed. When the morning was up, they had him to 
the top of the house, and bid him look south. So he 
did, and behold, at a great distance, he saw most 
pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, 
vineyards, fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs 

1 Harness : To arm ; from harness, an old word for armor. 


and fountains, very delectable to behold. Then he 
asked the name of the country. They said it was 
Immanuel's Land ; and it is as common, said they, as 
this hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou 
comest there, from thence thou mayest see to the gate 
of the Celestial City, as the shepherds that live there 
will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and 
they were willing he should. But first, said they, let 
us go again into the armory. So they did ; and when 
he came there they armed him from head to foot 
with the best armor, lest perhaps he should meet 
with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus 
equipped, walked out with his friends to the gate ; and 
there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass 
by. Then the Porter answered, Yes. 

Chr. Pray, did you know him ? said he. 

Port. 1 asked his name, and he told me it was 

Chr. Oh! said Christian, I know him; he is my 
townsman, my near neighbor ; he comes from the place 
where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
before ? 

Port. He is got by this time below the hill. 

Chr. Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord 
be with thee, and add to all thy blessings much increase 
for the kindness thou hast showed me. 



Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, 
Charity, and Prudence would accompany him down to 
the foot of the hill. So they went on together, repeat- 
ing their former discourses, till they came to go down 
the hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult coming 
up, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going down. 
Yes, said Prudence, so it is ; for it is a hard matter for 
a man to go down into the valley of Humiliation, as 
thou art now, and to meet with no fall or mishap by the 
way; therefore, said she, we are come out to accom- 
pany thee down the hill. So he began to go down the 
hill, but very warily ; }~et he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream, that these good com- 
panions, when Christian was got down to the bottom 
of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, 
and a cluster of raisins ; and then he went on his way. 

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Chris- 
tian was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little 
way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field 
to meet him : his name is Apollyon. Then did Chris- 
tian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether 
to go back or to stand his ground. But he considered 
again, that he had no armor for his back, and therefore 
thought that to turn the back to him might give him 
greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his 
darts ; therefore he resolved to venture and stand his 
ground : for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye 
than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to 



So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the 
monster was hideous to behold; he was clothed with 
scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings 
like a dragon, and feet like a bear ; and from him came 
fire and smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth of a 
lion. When he was come up to Christian, he beheld 
him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to 
question him. 

Apollyon. Whence came you, and whither are you 
bound ? 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, which 
is the place of all evil, and I am going to the city of 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my 
subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the 
prince and god of it. How is it, then, that thou hast 
run away from thy king ? Were it not that I hope 
thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee 
now at one blow to the ground. 

Chr. I was, indeed, born in your dominions, but 
your service was hard, and your wages such as man 
could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death ; there- 
fore, when I was come to years, I did, as other consid- 
erate persons do, look out if perhaps I might mend 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose 
his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee ; but since 
thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content 
to go back, and what our country will afford I do here 
promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the 
King of princes ; and how can I with fairness go back 
with thee ? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the 



proverb, " changed a bad for a worse ; " but it is ordi- 
nary for those that have professed themselves his 
servants, after a while to give him the slip, and return 
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my 
allegiance to him ; how then can I go back from this, 
and not be hanged as a traitor. 

Apol. Thou didst the same by me, and yet I am 
willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again 
and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was before I was of 
age : and besides, I count that the Prince under whose 
banner I now stand is able to absolve me, yea, and to 
pardon also what I did as to my compliancy with thee. 
And besides, oh, thou destroying Apollyon, to speak 
truth, I like his service, his wages, his servants, his gov- 
ernment, his company, and country, better than thine ; 
therefore leave off to persuade me further : I am his 
servant, and I will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cold blood, 
what art thou like to meet with in the way that thou 
goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his 
servants come to an ill end, because they are trans- 
gressors against me and my ways. How many of 
them have been put to shameful deaths ! And besides, 
thou countest his service better than mine ; whereas 
he never yet came from the place where he is, to 
deliver any that served him out of their enemies' 
hands : but as for me, how many times, as all the 
world very well knows, have I delivered, either by 
power or fraud, those that have faithfully served me, 
from him and his, though taken by them ! And so 
will I deliver thee. 

Chr. His forbearing at present to deliver them, is 


on purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave 
to him to the end: and as for the ill end thou say est 
they come to, that is most glorious in their account. 
For, for present deliverance, they do not much expect 
it ; for they stay for their glory ; and then they shall 
have it, when their Prince comes in his and the glory 
of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy 
service to him ; and how dost thou think to receive 
wages of him? 

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have 1 been unfaith- 
ful to him? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out, when 
thou wast almost choked in the Slough of Despond. 
Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy 
burden, whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy 
Prince had taken it off. Thou didst simply sleep, 
and lose thy choice things. Thou wast almost per- 
suaded also to go back at the sight of the lions. And 
when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou 
hast seen and heard, thou art inwardly desirous of 
vainglory in all thou sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou 
hast left out , but the Prince whom I serve and honor 
is merciful, and ready to forgive. But besides, these 
infirmities possessed me in thy country, for there 1 
fell into them, and I have groaned under them, been 
sorry for them, and have obtained pardon of my 

Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, 
saying, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his 
person, his laws, and people : I am come out on pur- 
pose to withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do. for I am in the 


King's highway, the way of holiness ; therefore take 
heed to yourself. 

Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in this 
matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by my in- 
fernal den, that thou shalt go no farther : here will I 
spill thy soul. And with that he threw a naming dart 
at his breast ; but Christian had a shield in his hand, 
with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger 
of that. 

Then did Christian draw his sword, for he saw he 
must bestir him; and Apollyon as fast made at him, 
throwing darts as thick as hail ; by the which, notwith- 
standing all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon 
wounded him in his head, his" hand, and foot. This 
made Christian give a little back ; Apollyon, therefore, 
followed his work mightily, and Christian again took 
courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This 
sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Chris- 
tian was almost quite exhausted: for you must know, 
that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs 
grow weaker and weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to 
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, 
gave him a dreadful fall: and with that Christian's 
sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am 
sure of thee now : and with that he had almost pressed 
him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. 
But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetch- 
ing his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this 
good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for 
his sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against 
me, O mine enemy : when I fall, I shall arise ; and with 
that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give 


back, as one that had received his mortal wound, 
Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, 
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, 
through Him that loved us. And with that Apollyon 
spread forth his dragon wings, and sped him away, that 
Christian saw him no more. 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had 
seen and heard, as I did, what yelling and hideous roar- 
ing Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; he spake 
like a dragon : and on the other side, what sighs and 
groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him 
all the while give so much as one pleasant look till he 
perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged 
sword ; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward ! 
But it was the dreadfullest sight that ever I saw. 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will 
here give thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of 
the mouth of the lion, to Him that did help me against 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the 
leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took and 
applied to the wounds that he had received in the bat- 
tle, and was healed immediately. He also sat down in 
that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that 
was given him a little before : so, being refreshed, he 
addressed himself to his journey with his sword drawn 
in his hand; for he said, I know not but some other 
enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other 
affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. 

Now at the end of this valley was another, called 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian 
must needs go through it, because the way to the Celes- 
tial City lay through the midst of it. Now, this valley 
is a very solitary place. The prophet Jeremiah thus 


describes it : " A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, 
a land of drought, and of the Shadow of Death, a land 
that no man " (but a Christian) "passeth through, and 
where no man dwelt." 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his 
light with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was 
got to the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met 
him two men, children of them that brought up an evil 
report of the good land, making haste to go back ; to 
whom Christian spake as follows. 
Chr. Whither are you going ? 
Men. They said, Back, back ; and we would have 
you do so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 
Chr. Why, what's the matter ? said Christian. 
Men. Matter ! said they ; we were going that way 
as you are going, and went as far as we durst ; and in- 
deed we were almost past coming back ; for had we 
gone a little farther, we had not been here to bring the 
news to thee. 

Chr. But what have you met with ? said Christian. 
Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked 
before us, and saw the danger before we came to it. 
Chr. But what have you seen ? said Christian. 
Men. Seen ? why, the valley itself, which is as dark 
as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, monsters, 
and dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a 
continual howling and yelling, as of people under un- 
utterable misery, who there sat bound in affliction and 
irons : and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds 
of confusion : Death also doth always spread his wings 
over it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being 
utterly without order. 


Chr. Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by 
what you have said, but that this is my way to the 
desired haven. 

Men. Be it thy way ; we will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but 
still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he 
should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, 
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch ; that 
ditch is it into which the blind have led the blind in all 
ages, and have both there miserably perished. Again, 
behold, on the left hand there was a very dangerous 
quagmire, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds 
no bottom for his foot to stand on ; into that quagmire 
Kino- David once did fall, and had no doubt therein 
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrows and 
therefore good Christian was the more put to it ; for 
when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the 
one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the 
other ; also, when he sought to escape the mire, with- 
out great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the 
ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh 
bitterly ; for besides the clanger mentioned above, the 
pathway was here so dark, that ofttimes when he lifted 
up his foot to go forward, he knew not where or upon 
what he should set it next. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate 

-.condition some considerable time, he thought he heard 

the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, Though 

I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I 

will fear no evil, for thou art with me. 

Then was he was glad, and that for these reasons : 


First, Because he gathered from thence, that some 
who feared God were in this valley as well as himself. 

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them, 
though in that dark and dismal state. And why not, 
thought he, with me, though by reason of the difficulty 
that attends this place, I can not perceive it. 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) 
to have company by and by. So he went on, and called 
to him that was before ; but he knew not what to an- 
swer, for that he also thought himself to be alone. And 
by and by the day broke : then said Christian, " He hath 
turned the shadow of death into the morniner." 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out 
of desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, 
what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he 
saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, 
and the quagmire that was on the other ; also, how narrow 
the wa} r was which led betwixt them both. Also, now 
he saw the hobgoblins, and monsters, and dragons of the 
pit, but all afar off ; for after break of day they came 
not nigh; yet they were discovered to him, according 
to that which is written, " He discovereth deep things 
out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow 
of death." 

Now was Christian much affected with this deliv- 
erance from all the dangers of his solitary way; which 
dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he 
saw them more clearly now, because the light of the 
day made them conspicuous to him. And about this 
time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to 
Christian; for you must note, that though the first part 
of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was dangerous, 
yet this second part, which he must go through, was, if 
possible, far more dangerous ; for, from the place where 


he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the way 
was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and nets 
here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and shelv- 
ings-down there, that had it now been dark, as it was 
when he came the first part of the way, had he had a 
thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; but, 
as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said he, 
" His candle shineth on my head, and by his light I go 
through darkness." 

In this light, therefore, he came to the end of the 
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of the 
valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of 
men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; 
and while I was musing what should be the reason, I 
espied a little before me a cave, where two giants dwelt 
in old times ; by whose power and tyranny the men 
whose bones, blood, and ashes lay there, were cruelly 
put to death. But by this place Christian went with- 
out much danger, whereat I somewhat wondered \ but I 
have learnt since, that one of the giants has been dead 
many a day ; and as for the other, though he be yet 
alive, he is, b} r reason of age, and also of the many hard 
knocks that he met with in his younger days, grown so 
crazy and stiff in his joints that he can now do little 
more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at pilgrims 
as they go by, and biting his nails because he can not 
come at them. 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet at 
the sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the 
cave, he could not tell what to think, especially because 
he spoke to him, though he could not go after him, say- 
ing, You will never mend till more of you be burned. 
But he held his peace, and set a good face on it; and 
so went by, and got no hurt. 




Now, as Christian went on his way, he came to a 
little ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pil- 
grims might see before them : up there, therefore, 
Christian went ; and looking forward, he saw Faithful 
before him upon his journey. Then said Christian 
aloud, Ho, ho ; so, ho, stay, and I will be your compan- 
ion. At that Faithful looked behind him ; to whom 
Christian cried again, Stay, stay, till I come up to you. 
But Faithful answered, No, I am upon my life, and the 
Avenger of Blood is behind me. 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting 
to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and 
did also overrun him ; so the last was first. Then did 
Christian vaingloriously smile, because he had gotten 
the start of his brother ; but not taking good heed to 
his feet he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not 
rise again until Faithful came up to help him. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly 
on together, and had sweet discourse of all things that 
had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus 
Christian began. 

Chr. My honored and well-beloved brother Faith- 
ful, I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God 
has so tempered our spirits that we can walk as com- 
panions in this so pleasant a path. 

Faith. I had thought, my dear friend, to have your 
company quite from our town, but you did get the start 
of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much of 
the wav alone- 



Chr. How long did you stay in the city of De- 
struction before you set out after rne on your pilgrim- 
age ? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer ; for there was 
a great talk presently after you were gone out, that 
our city would, in a short time, be burnt down to the 
ground with fire from heaven. 

Chr. What, did your neighbors talk so ? 

Faith. Yes, it was for awhile in everybody's mouth. 

Chr. What, and did no more of them but you come 
out to escape the danger ? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk 
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe 
it ; for, in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of 
them deridingly speak of you and of your desperate 
journey, for so they called this your pilgrimage. But I 
did believe, and do still, that in the end our city will 
be destroyed ; and therefore 1 have made my escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable ? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed 
you till he came to the Slough of Despond, where, as 
some said, he fell in ; but he would not be known to 
have so done : but I am sure he was completely be- 
daubed with that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the neighbors to him ? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been held 
greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people : 
some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any set 
him to work. He is now seven times worse than if he 
had never gone out of the city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, 
since they also despise the way that he forsook? 

Faith. Oh, they say, Hang him ; he is a turncoat : 
he was not true to his profession ! I think God has 



stirred up even His enemies to hiss at him, and make 
him a proverb, because he hath forsaken the way. 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he looked 
away toward the other side, as one ashamed of what he 
had done ; so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of 
that man ; but now I fear he will perish in the over- 
throw of the city. 

Faith. These are my fears of him, too ; but who 
can hinder that which will be ? 

Chr. Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us 
leave him, and talk of things that more immediately 
concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met 
with in the way as you came ; for I know you have 
met with some things, or else it may be writ for a 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceived you 
fell into, and got up to the gate without that danger •, 
only I met with one whose name was Wanton, who had 
like to have done me mischief. 

Chr. It was well you escaped her net : Joseph was 
hard put to it by her, and he escaped as you did ; but 
it had like to have cost him his life. But what did she 
do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think (but that you know some- 
thing) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner of 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you 
came ? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me 


what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I was 
a pilgrim, going to the Celestial City. Then said the 
old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow ; wilt thou 
be content to dwell with me for the wages that I shall 
give thee ? Then I asked his name, and where he 
dwelt. He said his name was Adam the First, and that 
he dwelt in the town of Deceit. I asked him then 
what was his work, and what the wages that he would 
give. He told me that his work was many delights ; and 
his wages, that I should be his heir at last. I further 
asked him, what house he kept, and what other servants 
he had. So he told me that his house was maintained 
with all the dainties of the world, and that he had many 
servants. Then I asked, how long time he would have 
me live with him ; and he told me, as long as he lived 

Che. Well, and what conclusions came the old man 
and you to at last ? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat in- 
clinable to go with the man, for I thought he spoke 
very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with 
him, I saw there written, " Put off the old man with 
his deeds." 

Chr. And how then ? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, 
that, whatever he said, and however he flattered, when 
he got me home to his house he would sell me for a 
slave. So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not 
come near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, 
and told me that he would send such a one after me 
that should make my way bitter to my soul. So I 
turned to go away from him ; but just as I turned my- 
self to go thence, I felt him take hold of my flesh, and 
give me such a deadly twitch back, that I thought he 


had pulled part of me after himself : this made me cry, 
" Oh, wretched man ! " So I went on my way up the 

Now, when I got about half the way up, I looked be- 
hind me and saw one coming after me, swift as the 
wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where 
the bench stands. 

Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest me ; 
but, being overcome with sleep, I there lost this roll out 
of my bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon as 
the man overtook me, it was but a word and a blow ; 
for down he knocked me and laid me for dead. But 
when I was a little come to myself again, I asked him 
wherefore he served me so. He said because of my 
secret inclining to Adam the First. And with that he 
struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and beat 
me down backward ; so I lay at his feet as dead as 
before. So when I came to myself again, I cried, have 
mercy ; but he said, I know not how to show mercy ; 
and with that he knocked me down again. He had 
doubtless made an end of me, but that One came by 
and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear ? 

Faith. I did not know Him at first ; but as He went 
by, I perceived the holes in His hands and His side ; 
then I concluded that He was our Lord. So I went up 
the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He 
spareth none ; neither knoweth he how to show mercy 
to those that transgress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first 
time that he has met with me. 'Twas he that came to 
me when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me 


that he would burn my house over my head if I staid 

Chr. But did you not see the house that stood 
there on the top of the hill, on the side of which Moses 
met you? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. 
But, for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was 
about noon ; and because I had so much of the day be- 
fore me, I passed by the porter and came down the hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by , 
but I wish that you had called at the house, for they 
would have showed you so many rarities that you 
would scarce have forgot them to the day of your 
death. But pray tell me, did you meet anybody in the 
Valley of Humility ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would 
willingly have persuaded me to go back again with 
him : his reason was, because the valley was altogether 
without honor. He told me, moreover, that to go there 
was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arro- 
gancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who 
he knew, as he said, would be very much offended if I 
made such a fool of myself as to wade through this 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him ? 

Faith. I told him, that although all these that he 
named might claim a kindred to me, and that rightly 
(for indeed they were my relations, according to the 
flesh), yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned 
me, and I also have rejected them ; and therefore they 
were to me now no more than if they had never been 
of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as to this 
valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for be- 
fore honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a 




fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this 
valley to the honor that was so accounted by the wisest, 
than choose that which he esteemed most worthy of our 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley ? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men 
that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears the 
wrong name. The others would be said nay, after a 
little argumentation, and somewhat else ; but this bold- 
faced Shame would never have done. 

Chr. Why, what did he say to you ? 

Faith. What ? Why, he objected against religion 
itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business 
for a man to mind religion. He said that a tender con- 
science was an unmanly thing ; and that for a man to 
watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up himself 
from that blustering liberty that the brave spirits of the 
times accustom themselves unto, would make him the 
ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but a few 
of the mighty, rich, or wise, were ever of my opinion ; 
nor any of them neither, before they were persuaded 
to be fools, and to venture the loss of all for nobody 
knows what. He, moreover, objected to the base and 
low estate and condition of those that were chiefly the 
pilgrims of the times in which they lived ; also their 
ignorance and want of understanding in all natural 
knowledge. Yea, he did hold me to it at that rate also, 
about a great many more things than here I relate ; as, 
that it was a shame to sit whining and mourning under 
a sermon, and a shame to come sighing and groaning 
home ; that it was a shame to ask my neighbor forgive- 
ness for petty faults, or to make restitution where I 
have taken from any. He said also, that religion made 
a man grow strange to the great, because of a few vices, 


which he called by finer names, and made him own and 
respect the base, because of the same religious frater- 
nity : and is not this, said he, a shame ? 

Chr. And what did you say to him ? 

Faith. Say ? I could not tell what to say at first. 
Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my 
face ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost 
beat me quite off ; but at last I began to consider that 
that which is highly esteemed among men, is had in 
abomination with God. And I thought again, this 
Shame tells me what men are ; but he tells me nothing 
what God or the word of God is. And I thought, 
moreover, that at last we shall not be judged according 
to the insolent spirits of the world, but according to 
the wisdom and the law of the Highest. Therefore, 
thought I, what God says is indeed best, though all the 
men in the world are against it. 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst with- 
stand this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, 
I think he has the wrong name : for he is so bold as to 
follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us to 
shame before all men : that is, to make us ashamed of 
that which is good. But if he was not himself auda- 
cious, he would never attempt to do as he does. But 
let us still resist him ; for, notwithstanding all his 
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. 
"The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon; "but 
shame shall be the promotion of fools." 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against 
Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon 
the earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet with nobody 
else in that valley? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of 


the way through that, and also through the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death. 

Chr. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared far 
otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon 
almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat 
with that foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily 
he would have killed me, especially when he got me 
down, and crushed me under him, as if he would have 
crushed me to pieces ; for, as he threw me, my sword 
flew out of my hand : nay, he told me he was sure of 
me ; but I cried unto God, and he heard me, and de- 
livered me out of all my troubles. Then I entered 
into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and had no 
light for almost half the way through it. I thought 
over and over I should have been killed there ; but at 
last day brake, and the sun rose, and I went through 
that which was behind with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover, I saw in my dream, that as they went on, 
Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man 
whose name was Talkative, walking at a distance beside 
them ; for in this place there was room enough for 
them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something 
more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man 
Faithful addressed himself in this manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you going to 
the heavenly country ? 

Talk. I am going to the same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your 
good company ? 

Talk. With a very good will, will I be your com- 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and 
let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are 


Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is very 
acceptable, with you or with any other ; and I am glad 
that I have met with those that incline to so good a 
work ; for to speak the truth, there are but few who 
care thus to spend their time as they are in their 
travels, but choose much rather to be speaking of 
things to no profit; and this hath been a trouble to me. 

Faith. That is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; foi 
what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and 
mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God of 
heaven ? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your sayings 
are full of conviction ; and I will add, What thing is 
so pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the 
things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if 
a man hath any delight in things that are wonderful. 
For instance, if a man doth delight to talk of the his- 
tory, or the mystery of things ; or if a man doth love 
to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall he 
find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly 
penned, as in the Holy Scripture? 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one 
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse 
upon ? 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heav- 
enly, or things earthly ; things moral, or things evan- 
gelical ; things sacred, or things profane ; things past, 
or things to come ; things foreign, or things at home ; 
things more essential, or things circumstantial : pro- 
vided that all be done to our profit. 

Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and stepping to 
Christian (for he walked all this while by himself), he said 
to him, but softly, What a fine companion have we got! 
Surely, this man will make a very excellent pilgrim. 



At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This 
man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile with 
this tongue of his twenty of them that know him not. 

Faith. Do you know him, then ? 

Chr. Know him? Yes, better than he knows 

Faith. Pray, what is he ? 

Chr. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our 
town. I wonder that }^ou should be a stranger to him, 
only I consider that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth 
he dwell? 

Chr. He is the son of one Saywell. He dwelt in 
Prating-Row ; and he is known to all that are ac- 
quainted with him by the name of Talkative of Prating- 
Row ; and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but 
a miserable fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very nice sort of a 

Chr. That is to them that have not a thorough ac- 
quaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near home 
he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a nice 
man, brings to my mind what I have observed in the 
work of a painter, whose pictures show best at a dis- 
tance ; but very near, more unpleasing. 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, 
because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I smiled) 
in this matter, or that I should accuse any falsely. I 
will give you a further discovery of him. This man is 
for any company, and for any talk ; as he talketh now 
with you, so will he talk when he is on the ale-bench ; 
and the more drink he hath in his head, the more of 
these things he hath in his mouth. Religion hath no 


place in his heart, or house, or conversation ; all he 
hath lieth in his tongue, and his religion is to make a 
noise therewith. 

Faith. Say you so ? Then am I in this man greatly 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember 
the proverb, " They say and do not ; " but " the kingdom 
of God is not in word, but in power." He talketh of 
prayer, of repentance, of faith, and of the new birth ; 
but he knows but only to talk of them. I have been 
in his family, and have observed him both at home and 
abroad ; and I know what I say of him is the truth. 
His house is as empty of religion as the white of an 
egg is of savor. There is there neither prayer, nor 
sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the brute in his kind 
serves God far better than he. He is the very stain, 
reproach, and shame of religion to all that know him ; 
it can hardly have a good word in all that end of the 
town, where he dwells, through him. Thus say the 
common people that know him, " A saint abroad, and a 
devil at home." His poor family finds it so ; he is 
so unreasonable with his servants, that they neither 
know how to do for or speak to him. Men that have 
any dealings with him say, " It is better to deal 
with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealings they 
shall have at their hands." This Talkative (if it be 
possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and 
overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to fol- 
low his steps ; and if he finds in any of them a foolish 
timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance of a 
tender conscience), he calls them fools and blockheads, 
and by no means will employ them in much, or speak to 
their commendation before others. For my part, I am 
of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, caused many 


to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God prevents not, 
the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe 
you, not only because you say you know him, but also 
because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. 
For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill- 
will, but because it is even so as you say. 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, 
perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did ] 
yea, had I received this report at their hands only that 
are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had 
been a slander — a lot that often falls from bad men's 
mouths upon good men's names and professions. But 
all these things, yea, and a great many more as bad, 
of my own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of! 
Besides, good men are ashamed of him; they can 
neither call him brother or friend; the very naming 
of him among them makes them blush, if they know 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two 
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis- 

Chr. They are two things, indeed, and are as different 
as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without 
the soul is but a dead carcass, so saying, if it be alone, 
is but a dead carcass also. The soul of religion is the 
practical part. " Pure religion and undefiled before 
God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and 
widows in their affliction, and to keep himself un- 
spotted from the world." This Talkative is not aware 
of; he thinks that hearing and saying will make a good 
Christian ; and thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hear- 
ing is but as the sowing of the seed ; talk is not suffi- 
cient to prove that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. 


And let us assure ourselves, that at the day of doom 
men shall be judged according to their fruits. It will 
not be said then, Did you believe ? but, Were you 
doers, or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be 
judged. The end of the world is compared to our 
harvest, and you know men at harvest regard nothing 
but fruit. Not that anything can be accepted that is 
not of faith ; but I speak this to show you how insignifi- 
cant the profession of Talkative will be at that day. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at 
first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do to 
be rid of him ? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and yon 
shall find that he will soon be sick of your company, 
too, except God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me do ? 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious 
discourse about the power of religion ; and ask him 
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will), 
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or 

Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to 
Talkative, Come, what cheer ? How is it now ? 

Talk. Thank you, well : I thought we should have 
had a great deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; and 
since you left it with me to state the question, let it be 

Talk. I perceive, then, that our talk must be about 
the power of things. Well, it is a very good question, 
and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my 
answer in brief, thus : First, where the grace of God is 
in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. 
Secondly — 


Faith. Nay, hold ; let us consider of one at once. 
I think you should rather say, It shows itself by inclin- 
ing the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between cry- 
ing out against sin, and the abhorring of sin ? 

Faith. Oh ! a great deal. A man may cry out 
against sin, of policy ; but he can not abhor it but by 
virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard 
many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who can yet 
abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversa- 
tion. Some cry out against sin, even as the mother 
cries out against her child in her lap, when she calleth it 
naughty girl, and then falls to hugging and kissing it. 

Standeth your religion in word or tongue, and not 
in deed and truth? Pray, if you incline to answer me 
this, say no more than you know the God above will 
say Amen to, and also nothing but what your con- 
science can justify you in; for not he that commendeth 
himself is approved, but whom the Lord commendeth. 
Besides, to say T am thus and thus, when my conver- 
sation, and all my neighbors, tell me T lie, is great 

Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but recover- 
ing himself, he thus replied: You come now to experi- 
ence, to conscience, and to God ; and to appeal to Him 
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of dis- 
course I did not expect; nor am I disposed to give an 
answer to such questions, because I count not myself 
bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a 
catechiser ; and though you should so do, yet I may 
refuse to make you my judge. But I pray, will you tell 
me why you ask me such questions ? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and 
because I knew not that you were really in earnest. 


Besides, to tell you the truth, I have heard of you that 
you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that 
your conversation gives this your mouth-profession the 
lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, and 
that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly conver- 
sation; that some have already stumbled at your 
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being 
destroyed thereby : your religion, and an ale-house, and 
covetousness and uncleanness, and swearing, and lying, 
and vain company-keeping will stand together. 

Talk. Since you are so ready to take up reports, 
and to judge as rashly as you do, I cannot but conclude 
you are some peevish or melancholy man, not fit to talk 
to ; and so farewell. 

Then up came Christian, and said to his brother, I 
told you how it would happen ; your words and his 
lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your com- 
pany than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said : 
let him go ; the loss is no man's but his own. He has 
saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he con- 
tinuing (as I suppose he will do) as he is, would have 
been but a blot in our company : besides, the Apostle 
says, " From such withdraw thyself." 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse 
with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again : 
however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am clear 
of his blood if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you 
did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with 
men now-a-days, and that makes religion a stench in 
the nostrils of so many as it doth ; for they are these 
talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and who 
are debauched and vain in their conversation, that 
(being so much admitted into the fellowship of the 



godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and 
grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with 
such as you have done, then should they either be made 
more conformable to religion, or the company of saints 
would be too hot for them. 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen by 
the way, and so made that way easy which would other- 
wise no doubt have been tedious to them, for now they 
went through a wilderness. 


Now when they were got almost quite out of this 
wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and 
espied one coming after them, and lie knew him. Oh ! 
said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder? Then 
Christian looked and said, It is my good friend Evan- 
gelist. Aye, and my good friend too, said Faithful, 
for 'twas he that set me on the way to the gate. Now 
was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted 

Evax. Peace be with you, dearly beloved; and 
peace be to your helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist: the 
sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance 
thy ancient kindness and unwearied labors for my eter- 
nal good. 

Faith. And a thousand times welcome, said good 
Faithful, thy company, O sweet Evangelist ; how de- 
sirable is it to us poor pilgrims ! 

Eva^ 8 Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared 

7 o 


with you, my friends, since the time of our last part- 
ing? What have you met with, and how have you be- 
haved yourselves ? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things 
that had happened to them in the way ; and how, and 
with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have 
met with trials, but that you have been victors ; and 
for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, 
continued in the way to this very day. 

Chr. Then Christian thanked him for his exhorta- 
tions ; but told him withal, that they would have him 
speak further to them for their help the rest of the 
way; and the rather, for that they well knew that he 
was a prophet, and could tell them of things that might 
happen unto them, and also how they might resist and 
overcome them. To which request Faithful also con- 
sented. So Evangelist becran as followeth : 

Evan. My sons, you have heard in the word of the 
truth of the Gospel, that you must "through many 
tribulations enter into the Kingdom of Heaven ; " and 
again, that " in every city, bonds and afflictions abide 
you ; " and therefore you cannot expect that you should 
go long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort 
or other. You have found something of the truth of 
these testimonies upon you already, and more will im- 
mediately follow : for now, as you see, you are almost 
out of this wilderness, and therefore you will soon 
come into a town that you will by and by see before 
you ; and in that town you will be hardly beset 
with enemies, who will strain hard, but they will kill 
you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must 
seal the testimony which you hold, with blood; buc 
" be you faithful unto death, and the King will give you 


a crown of life." He that shall die there, although his 
death will be unnatural, and his pain, perhaps, great, 
he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not only 
because he will arrive at the Celestial City soonest, 
but because he will escape many miseries that the other 
will meet with in the rest of his journey. But when 
you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled what 
I have here related, then remember your friend, and 
quit yourselves like men, and " commit the keeping of 
your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faithful 

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got out 
of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, 
and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town 
there is a fair x kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept all the 
year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because 
the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, and also 
because all that is there sold, or that cometh thither, is 
vanity ; as is the saying of the wise, " All that cometh 
is vanity." 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
ancient standing. I will show you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years ago there were pilgrims 
walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest per- 
sons are : and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, with 
their companions, perceiving by the path the pilgrims 
made, that their way to the city lay through this town 
of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a fair; a fair 
wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, and that it 
should last all the year long. Therefore, at this fair 
are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, trades, 
places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, kingdoms, 
lusts, pleasures; and delights of all sorts, as harlots. 

!Fair: See Sketch of Banyan's Life, p. vii. 


wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, lives, blood, 
bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious stones, and 
what not. 

And moreover, at this fair there is at all times to be 
seen jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, 
and rogues, and that of every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, 
murders, adulteries, false-swearers, and that of a blood- 
red color. 

And, as in other fairs of less moment, there are the 
several rows and streets under their proper names, 
where such and such wares are sold ; so here, like- 
wise, you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, 
countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair 
are soonest to be found. Here is the British Row, the 
French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the 
German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just 
through this town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he 
that would go to the city, and yet not go through 
this town, " must needs go out of the world." The 
Prince of princes himself, when here, went through this 
town to his own country, and that upon a fair-day, too ; 
yea, and, as I think, it was Beelzebub, the chief lord of 
this fair, that invited him to buy of his vanities, yea, 
would have made him lord of the fair, would he but 
have done him reverence as he went through the town. 
Yea, because he was such a person of honor, Beelzebub 
had him from street to street, and showed him all the 
kingdoms of the world in a little time, that he might, 
if possible, allure that blessed One to cheapen and buy 
some of his vanities : but he had no mind to the mer- 
chandise, and therefore left the town, without laying 


out so much as one penny upon these vanities. This 
fair, therefore, is an ancient thing, of long standing, 
and a very great fair. 

Now, these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through 
this fair. Well, so they did ; but b jhold, even as they 
entered into the fair, all the people in the fair were 
moved; and the town itself, as it were, in a hubbub 
about them, and that for several reasons : for, 

First, The Pilgrims were clothed with such kind of 
raiment as was different from the raiment of any that 
traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, 
made a great gazing upon them ; some said they were 
fools ; some, they were madmen ; and some, they were 
outlandish men. 

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, so 
they did likewise at their speech ; for few could under- 
stand what they said. They naturally spoke the lan- 
guage of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were the 
men of this world : so that from one end of the fair to 
the other, they seemed barbarians each to the other. 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the 
merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light by 
all their wares. They cared not so much as to look 
upon them ; and if they called upon them to buy, they 
would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, " Turn 
away mine eyes from beholding vanity," and look up- 
ward, signifying that their trade or traffic was in 

One chanced, mockingly, beholding the behavior of 
the men, to say unto them, " What will ye buy? " But 
they, looking gravely upon him, said, " We buy the 
iruth." At that there was an occasion taken to despise 
r.he men the more ; some mocking, some taunting, some 
speaking reproachfully, and some calling upon others to 


smite them. At last things came to a hubbub and great 
stir in the fair, insomuch that all order was confounded. 
Now was word presently brought to the great one of 
the fair, who quickly came down, and deputed some of his 
most trusty friends to take those men into examination 
about whom the fair was almost overturned. So the 
men were brought to examination ; and they that ex- 
amined them asked them whence they came, whither 
they went, and what they did there in such an unusual 
garb. The men told them they were pilgrims and 
strangers in the world, and that they were going to 
their own country, which was the heavenly Jerusalem ; 
and that they had given no occasion to the men of the 
town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse them, 
and to hinder them in their journey, except it was for 
that, when one asked them what they would buy, they 
said they would buy the truth. But they that were ap- 
pointed to examine them did not believe them to be 
any other than madmen, or else such as came to put 
all things into a confusion in the fair. Therefore they 
took them and beat them, and besmeared them with 
dirt, and then put them into the cage, that they might 
be made a spectacle to all the men of the fair. There, 
therefore, they lay for some time, and were made the 
objects of any man's sport, or malice, or revenge ; the 
great one of the fair laughing still at all that befell 
them. But the men being patient, and "not rendering 
railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing," and giving 
good words for bad, and kindness for injuries done, 
some men in the fair, that were more observing and 
less prejudiced than the rest, began to check and blame 
the baser sort for their continual abuses done by them 
to the men. They, therefore, in an angry manner let 
fly at them again, counting them as bad as the men in 



the cage, and telling them that they seemed confeder- 
ates, and should be made partakers of their misfortunes. 
The others replied that, for aught they could see, the 
men were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any 
harm ; and that there were many that traded in their 
fair that were more worthy to be put into the cage, too, 
than were the men that they had abused. Thus, after 
divers words had passed on both sides (the men be- 
having themselves all the while very wisely and soberly 
before them), they fell to some blows among themselves, 
and did harm one to another. Then were these two 
poor men brought before their examiners again, and 
were charged as being guilty of the late hubbub that 
had been in the fair. So they beat them pitifully, and 
hanged irons upon them, and led them in chains up and 
down the fair, for an example and terror to others, lest 
any should speak in their behalf, or join themselves 
unto them. But Christian and Faithful behaved them- 
selves yet more wisely, and received the ignominy and 
shame that were cast upon them with so much meek- 
ness and patience, that it won to their side (though but 
few in comparison of the rest) several of the men in 
the fair. This put the other party yet into a greater 
rage, insomuch that they concluded the death of these 
two men. Wherefore they threatened that neither 
cage nor irons should serve their turn, but that they 
should die for the abuse they had done, and for delud- 
ing the men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until 
further order should be taken with them. So they put 
them in and made their feet fast. 

Here, also, they called again to mind what they had 
heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and were 
the more confirmed in their way and sufferings by what 


he told them would happen to them. They also now 
comforted each other, that whose lot it was to suffer, 
even he should have the best of it ; therefore each man 
secretly wished that he might have that preferment. 
But committing themselves to the all-wise disposal of 
Him that ruleth all things, with much content they 
abode in the condition in which they were, until they 
should be otherwise disposed of. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they brought 
them forth to their trial, in order to their condemnation. 
When the time was come, they were brought before 
their enemies and arraigned. The judge's name was 
Lord Hategood ; their indictment was one and the 
same in substance, though somewhat varying in form ; 
the contents whereof was this : " That they were ene- 
mies to, and disturbers of, the trade ; that they had 
made commotions and divisions in the town, and had 
won a party to their own most dangerous opinions, in 
contempt of the law of their prince." 

Then Faithful be^iin to answer, that he had onlv set 
himself against that which had set itself against Him 
that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for 
disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace : 
the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding 
our truth and innocence, and they are only turned 
from the worse to the better. And as to the king you 
talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I 
defy him and all his angels. 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had 
aught to say for their lord the king against the prisoner 
at the bar, should forthwith appear, and give in their 
evidence. So there came in three witnesses, to wit, 
Envy, Superstition, and Pickthank. 1 They were then 

1 Pickthank : A flatterer ; a toady. 



asked if they knew the prisoner at the bar; and what 
they had to say for their lord the king against him. 
Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My 
lord, I have known this man a long time, and will attest 
upon my oath, before this honorable bench, that he 
is — 

Judge. Hold ; give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this 
man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of 
the vilest men in our country ; he neither regardeth 
prince nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he 
can to possess all men with certain of his disloyal no- 
tions, which he in the general calls principles of faith 
and holiness. And in particular, I heard him once my- 
self affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our 
town of Vanity, were entirely opposite, and could not 
be reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at 
once not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us 
in the doing of them. 

Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any more 
to say ? 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I 
would not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, 
when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, 
rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch 
him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he 
was bid to stand by. 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look 
upon the prisoner. They also asked, what he could 
say for their lord the king against him. Then they 
sware him ; so he began. 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with 
this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of 
him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent 


fellow, from some discourse that I had with him the 
other day, in this town ; for then, talking with him, I 
heard him say that our religion was naught, and such 
by which a man could by no means please God. Which 
saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows 
what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still 
do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall 
be damned : and this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he 
knew in the behalf of their lord the king against the 
prisoner at the bar. 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I 
have known a long time, and have heard him speak 
things that ought not to be spoken ; for he hath railed 
at our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken con- 
temptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are, 
the Lord Oldman, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord 
Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, Sir Having 
Greedy, with all the rest of our nobility : and he hath 
said, moreover, that if all men were of his mind, it 
possible, there is not one of these noblemen should 
have any longer a being in this town. Besides, he 
hath not been afraid to rail at you, my lord, who are 
now appointed to be his judge, calling you an ungodly 
villain, with many other such like vilifying terms, with 
which he hath bespattered most of the gentry of our 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge 
directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, 
Thou renegade, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard 
what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against 
thee ? 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own de- 
fence ? 


Judge. Fellow, thou deservest to live no longer, 
but to be slain immediately upon the place ; yet, that 
all men may see our gentleness toward thee, let us 
hear what thou, vile wretch, hast to say. 

Faith. 1. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy 
hath spoken, I never said aught but this, that what 
rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were flat against the 
word of God, are wholly opposite to Christianity. If 
I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, 
and I am ready here before you to make my recanta- 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and 
his charge against me, I said only this, that in the wor- 
ship of God there is required a divine faith ; but there 
can be no divine faith without a divine revelation of 
the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the 
worship of God that is not agreeable to divine revela- 
tion, cannot be done but by a human faith ; which faith 
will not be profitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoid- 
ing terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that 
the prince of this town, with all the rabble, his attend- 
ants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for being 
in hell than in this town and country. And so the 
Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while 
stood by to hear and observe), Gentlemen of the jury, 
you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath 
been made in this town ; you have also heard what 
these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him ; 
also, you have heard his reply and confession : it lieth 
now in your breasts to hang him, or to save his life ; 
but yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the 


Great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a con 
trary religion should multiply and grow too strong for 
him, their males should be thrown into the river. 
There was also an act made in the days of Nebuchad- 
nezzar the Great, another of his servants, that whoever 
would not fall down and worship his golden image, 
should be thrown into a fiery furnace. There was also 
an act made in the days of Darius, that whoso for some 
time called upon any god but him, should be cast into 
the lion's den. Now, the substance of these laws this 
rebel hath broken, not only in thought (which is not to 
be borne), but also in word and deed ; which must, 
therefore, needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a sup- 
position to prevent mischief, no crime being yet ap- 
parent ; but here is a crime apparent. For the second 
and third, you see he disputeth against our religion ; 
and for the treason that he hath already confessed, he 
deserveth to die the death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. 
Blindman, Mr. Nogood, Mr. Malice, Mr. Lovelust, Mr. 
Liveloose, Mr. Heady, Mr. Highmind, Mr. Enmity, 
Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hatelight, and Mr. Implaca- 
ble ; who every one gave in his private verdict against 
him among themselves, and afterwards unanimously 
concluded to bring him in guilty before the judge. And 
first among themselves, Mr. Blindman, the foreman, 
said, I see clearly that this man is a heretic. Then 
said Mr. Nogood, Away with such a fellow from the 
earth. Aye, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very looks 
of him. Then said Mr. Lovelust, I could never endure 
him. Nor I, said Mr. Liveloose, for he would always 
be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, said 
Mr. Heady. A wretched scrub, said Mr. Highmind. 


My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is a 
rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging him is too good for 
him, said Mr. Cruelty. Let us dispatch him out of the 
way, said Mr. Hatelight. Then said Mr. Implacable, 
Might I have all the world given me, I could not be 
reconciled to him ; therefore let us forthwith bring him 
in guilty of death. 

And so they did; therefore he was presently con- 
demned to be had from the place where he was to the 
place from whence he came, and there to be put to the 
most cruel death that could be invented. 

They therefore brought him out, to do with him ac- 
cording to their law ; and first they scourged him, then 
they buffeted him, then they lanced his flesh with 
knives ; after that, they stoned him with stones, then 
pricked him with their swords ; and last of all, they 
burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful 
to his end. 

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a 
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful, who 
(so soon as his adversaries had dispatched him) was 
taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to 
the celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some 
respite, and was remanded to prison: so he remained 
there for a space. But He who overrules all things, 
having the power of their rage in His own hand, so 
wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped 
them, and went his way. 



Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not 
forth alone ; for there was one whose name was Hope- 
ful (being so made by beholding of Christian and Faith- 
ful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings at 
the fair), who joined himself unto him, and entering 
into a brotherly agreement, told him that he would be 
his companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to 
the truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a 
companion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This 
Hopeful also told Christian that there were many more 
of the men in the fair that would take their time and 
follow after. 

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of 
the fair, they overtook one that was going before them, 
whose name was Byends; so they said to him, What 
countryman, sir? and how far go you this way? He 
told them that he came from the town of Fairspeech, 
and that he was going to the Celestial City ; but told 
them not his name. 

From Fairspeech ? said Christian ; is there any good 
that lives there ? 

By. Yes, said Byends, I hope so. 

Chr. Pray, sir, what may I call you ? said Christian, 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me ; if you 
be going this way, I shall be glad of your company ; if 
not, I must be content. 

Chr. This town of Fairspeech, said Christian, I 
have heard of; and, as I remember, they say it's a 
wealthy place. 


By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have 
very many rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray, who are your kindred there, if a man 
may be so bold? 

By. Almost the whole town ; but in particular my 
Lord Turnabout, my Lord Timeserver, my Lord Fair- 
speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its 
name ; also, Mr. Smoothman, Mr. Facingbothways, Mr. 
Anything; and the parson of our parish, Mr. Two- 
tongues, was my mother's own brother, by father's side ; 
and, to tell you the truth, I am become a gentleman of 
good quality; yet my great-grandfather was but a 
waterman, looking one way and rowing another, and I 
got most of my estate by the same occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man ? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, 
the daughter of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady 
Feigning's daughter ; therefore she came of a very 
honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of 
breeding that she knows how to treat every one, whether 
prince or peasant. 'Tis true, we somewhat differ in 
religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in two 
small points ; First, we never strive against wind and 
tide. Secondly, we are always most zealous when Re- 
ligion goes in his silver slippers ; we love much to walk 
with him in the street, if the sun shines and the people 
applaud him. 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow 
Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one 
Byends, of Fairspeech ; and if it be he, we have as 
very a knave in our company as dwell eth in all these 
parts. Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he 
should not be ashamed of his name. So Christian 
came up with him again, and said, Sir, you talk as if 


you knew something more than all the world doth ; 
and, if I take not yuj mark amiss, I deem I have half a 
guess of you. Is not your name Mr. Byends, of Fair- 

By. This is not my name, but indeed it is a nick- 
name that is given me by some that cannot abide me, 
and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other 
good men have borne theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to 
call you by this name ? 

By. Never, never ! The worst that ever I did to 
give them an occasion to give me this name was, that I 
had always the luck to agree in my judgment with the 
present way of the times, whatever it was, and my chance 
was to gain thereby : but if things are thus cast upon me, 
let me count them a blessing ; but let not the malicious 
load me therefore with reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man 
that I heard of ; and to tell you what I think, I fear 
this name belongs to you more properly than you are 
willing: we should think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help it ; 
you shall find me a fair company- keeper, if you will still 
admit me your associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against 
wind and tide ; the w T hich, I perceive, is against your 
opinion: you must also own Religion in his rags, as 
well as when in his silver slippers ; and stand by him, 
too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh 
the streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my 
faith ; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 

Chr. Not a step farther, unless you will do, in what 
I propose, as we. 



Then said Byends, I shall never desert my old prin- 
ciples, since they are harmless and profitable. If I may 
not go with you, I must do as I did before you overtook 
me, even go by myself, until some overtake me that 
will be glad of my company. 

Now, I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hope- 
ful forsook him, and kept their distance before him ; 
but one of them, looking back, saw three men follow- 
ing Mr. Byends ; and, behold, as they came up with 
him, he made them a very low bow; and they also gave 
him a compliment. The men's names were, Mr. Hold- 
theworld, Mr. Moneylove, and Mr. Saveall, men that 
Mr. Byends had formerly been acquainted with; for 
when children they were schoolfellows, and were taught 
by one Mr. Gripeman, a schoolmaster in Lovegain, 
which is a market-town in the county of Coveting, in 
the North. The schoolmaster taught them the art of 
getting, either by violence, cheating, flattering, lying, 
or by putting on a guise of religion ; and these four 
gentlemen had attained much of the art of their master, 
so that they could each of them have kept such a school 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each 
other, Mr. Moneylove said to Mr. Byends, Who are 
they upon the road before us ? For Christian and Hope- 
ful were yet within view. 

By. They are a couple of fellow-countrymen, that, 
after their mode, are going on pilgrimage. 

Money. Alas ! why did they not stay, that we might 
have had their good company ? for they, and we, and 
you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage. 

By. We are so, indeed ; but the men before us are 
so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do 
also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let a 


man be never so godly, yet if he agrees not with them 
in all things, they thrust him quite out of their com- 

Save. That is bad ; but we read of some that are 
righteous over much, and such men's rigidness prevails 
with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. 
But I pray, what, and how many, were the things 
wherein you differed ? 

By. Why, they, after their headstrong manner, con- 
clude that it is their duty to rush on their journey all 
weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. 
They are for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am 
for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. 
They are for holding their notions, though all other 
men be against them ; but I am for religion in what and 
so far as the times and my safety will bear it. They 
are for Religion when in rags and contempt ; but I am 
for him when he walks in his silver slippers, in the sun- 
shine, and with applause. 

Holdthewoiild. Aye, and hold you there still, 
good Mr. Byends ; for, for my part, I can count him but 
a fool, that, having the liberty to keep what he has, 
shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as ser- 
pents. It is best to make hay while the sun shines. 
You see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs 
her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God 
sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine : if they 
be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be con- 
tent to take fair weather along with us. For my part, 
I like that religion best that will stand with the secur- 
ity of God's good blessings unto us ,* for who can imagine, 
that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed 
upon us the good things of this life, but that he would 
have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham and Solo- 


mon grew rich in religion ; and Job says, that a good 
man shall lay up gold as dust ; but he must not be 
such as the men before us, if they be as you have de- 
scribed them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter : 
and therefore there needs no more words about it. 

Moxey. No, there needs no more words about this 
matter, indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture 
nor reason (and you see we have both on our side), 
neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, 
and went till they came to a delicate plain called Ease, 
where they went with much content ; but that plain 
was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now 
at the farther side of that plain was a little hill, called 
Lucre, and in that hill a silver-mine, which some of 
them that had formerly gone that way, because of the 
rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but going too near 
the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful under 
them, broke, and they were slain : some also had been 
maimed there, and could not, to their dying day, be 
their own men again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, 
over against the silver-mine, stood Demas 1 (gentleman- 
like) to call passengers to come and see ; who said to 
Christian and his fellow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and I 
will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of 
the way to see it ? 

Demas. Here is a silver-mine, and some digging in 
it for treasure : if you will come, with a little pains you 
may richly provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, Let us go see. 

i Demas : See 2 Timothy iv. 10. 


Chr. Not I, said Christian : I have heard of this 
place before now, and how many have there been slain ; 
and besides, that treasure is a snare to those that seek 
it, for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the 
place dangerous ? Hath it not hindered many in their 
pilgrimage ? 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that 
are careless ; but withal he blushed as he spake. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not 
stir a step, but still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you, when Byends comes up, 
if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in 
thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him 
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, But will 
you not come over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, 
Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the 
Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned for 
thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's judges ; 
and why seekest thou to bring us into the like condem- 
nation ? Besides, if we at all turn aside, our Lord the 
King will certainly hear thereof, and will there put us to 
shame, where we would stand with boldness before him. 

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their fra- 
ternity ; and that if they would tarry a little, he also 
himself would walk with them. 

Chr. Then said Christian, What is thy name? Is 
it not the same by which I have called thee ? 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of 

Chr. I know you : Gehazi was your great-grand- 



father, and Judas your father, and you have trod in 
their steps ; it is but a devilish prank that thou usest , 
thy father was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest 
no better reward. Assure thyself, that when we come 
to the King, we will tell him of this thy behavior. 
Thus they went their way. 

By this time Byends and his companions were come 
again within sight, and they at the first beck went over 
to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by 
looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went 
down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the 
bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these 
things I am not certain ; but this I observed, that they 
were never seen again in the way. Then sang Christian, 

" Byends and Silver-Demas both agree ; 
One calls, the other runs, that he may be 
A sharer in his lucre ; so these two 
Take up in this world, and no farther go." 

Now I saw that, just on the other side of this plain, 
the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monu- 
ment, hard by the highway-side, at the sight of which 
they were both concerned, because of the strangeness 
of the form thereof ; for it seemed to them as if it had 
been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. 
Here, therefore, they stood looking and looking upon 
it, but could not for a time tell what they should make 
thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above upon 
the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he 
being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was learned) 
to see if he could pick out the meaning : so he came, 
and after a little laying of the letters together, he found 
the same to be this, " Remember Lot's wife." So he 
read it to his fellow ; after which they both concluded 



that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's wife 
was turned, for her looking back with a covetous heart 
when she was going from Sodom for safety. Which 
sudden and amazing sight gave them occasion for this 

Chr. Ah, my brother, this is a seasonable sight : it 
came opportunely to us after the invitation which 
Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre ; 
and had we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou 
wast inclined to do, my brother, we had, for aught I 
know, been made, like this woman, a spectacle for those 
that shall come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and am 
made to wonder that I am not now as Lot's wife ; for 
wherein was the difference betwixt her sin and mine ? 
She only looked back, and I had a desire to go see. 
Let grace be adored; and let me be ashamed that ever 
such a thing should be in mine heart. 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant 
river, which David the king called "the river of God;'' 
but John, " the river of the water of life." Now their 
way lay just upon the bank of this river : here, there- 
fore, Christian and his companion walked with great 
delight ; they drank also of the water of the river, which 
was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits. 
Besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were 
green trees with all manner of fruit ; and the leaves 
they ate to prevent diseases that are incident to those 
that heat their blood by travel. On either side of the 
river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies ; 
and it was green all the year long. In this meadow 
they lay down and slept, for here they might lie down 
safely. When they awoke they gathered again of the 
fruits of the trees, and drank again of the water of the 


river, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did 
several days and nights. 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
not as yet at their journey's end), they ate, and drank, 
and departed. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not jour- 
neyed far, but the river and the way for a time parted, 
at which they were not a little sorry ; yet they durst 
not go out of the way. Now the way from the river 
was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their 
travels ; so the souls of the pilgrims were much dis- 
couraged because of the way. Wherefore, still as they 
went on, they wished for a better way. Now, a little 
before them, there was on the left hand of the road a 
meadow, and a stile 1 to go over into it, and that 
meadow is called the By-path meadow. Then said 
Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along by 
our wayside, let's go over into it. Then he went t(Tthe 
stile to see ; and behold, a path lay along by the way on 
the other side of the fence. It is according to my wish, 
said Christian ; here is the easiest going ; come, good 
Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But how if this path should lead us out of 
the way ? 

That is not likely, said the other. Look, doth it 
not go along by the wayside ? So Hopeful, being per- 
suaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. 
When they were gone over, and were got into the 
path, they found it very easy for their feet ; and withal, 
they, looking before them, espied a man walking as 
they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence : so they 
called after him, and asked him whither that way led. 
He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, 

* Stile : Steps for crossing a fence or wall. 


did I not tell you so ? By this you may see we are 
right. So they followed, and he went before them. 
But behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark; 
so they that were behind lost sight of him that went 

He, therefore, that went before (Vain-Confidence 
by name), not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep 
pit, which was on purpose there made, by the prince 
of those grounds, to catch vain-glorious fools withal, 
and was dashed in pieces with his fall. 

Now, Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So 
they called to know the matter, but there was none to 
answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said Hope- 
ful, Where are we now ? Then was his fellow silent, 
as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way ; and 
now it began to rain, and thunder, and lighten, in a 
most dreadful manner, and the water rose rapidly. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh, that I 
had kept on my way ! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should 
have led us out of the way ? 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and there- 
fore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoken 
plainer, but that you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended : I am sorry I 
have brought thee out of the way, and that I have put 
thee into such imminent danger. Pray, my brother, 
forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee ; 
and believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother : 
but we must not stand here ; let us try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there 


be any danger, I may be first therein, because by my 
means we are both gone out of the way. 

Hope. No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for 
your mind being troubled may lead you out of the way 
again. Then for their encouragement they heard the 
voice of one saying, "Let thine heart be toward the 
highway, even the way that thou wentest : turn again." 
But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by which 
the way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I 
thought that it is easier going out of the way when we 
are in, than going in when we are out.) Yet they ad- 
ventured to go back ; but it was so dark, and the flood 
was so high, that in their going back they had like to 
have been drowned nine or ten times. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get 
again to the stile that night. Wherefore at last, light- 
ing under a little shelter, they sat down there till the 
day brake ; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now 
there was not far from the place where they lay, a 
castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was 
Giant Despair, and it was in his grounds thev now were 
sleeping ; wherefore he, getting up in the morning 
early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught 
Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then 
with a grim and surly voice he bid them awake, and 
asked them whence they were, and what they did in his 
grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and that 
they had lost their way. Then said the giant, You have 
this night trespassed on me by trampling in and lying 
on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with 
me. So they were forced to go, because he was stronger 
than they. They had also but little to say, for they 
knew themselves in a fault. The giant, therefore, 
drove them before him, and put them into his castle, 


into a very dark dungeon, filthy and evil-smelling to the 
spirits of these two men. Here, then, they lay from 
Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without 
one bit of bread or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask 
how they did ; they were, therefore, here in evil case. 
and were far from friends and acquaintance. Now, in 
this place, Christian had double sorrow, because it was 
through his unadvised counsel that they were brought 
into this distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
Diffidence : so lie told his wife what he had done : that 
he had taken a couple of prisoners, and cast them into 
his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he 
asked her, also, what he had best do further with them. 
So she asked him what they were, whence they came, 
and whither they were bound ; and he told her. Then 
she counselled him, that, when he arose in the morning, 
he should beat them without mercy. So when he 
arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree cudgel, and 
goes down into the dungeon to them, and there first 
falls to abusing of them as if they were dogs, although 
they gave him never a word of provocation. Then he 
fell upon them, and beat them fearfully, in such sort 
that they were not able to help themselves, or to turn 
them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and 
leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn 
under their distress : so all that day they spent their 
time in nothing: but sighs and bitter lamentations. The 
next night, she, talking with her husband further about 
them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did 
advise him to counsel them to make away with them- 
selves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them 
in a surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be 
very sore with the stripes that he had given them 


the day before, lie told them, that since they were 
never like to come out of that place, their only way 
would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, 
either with knife, halter, or poison ; for why, said he, 
should you choose to live, seeing it is attended with 
so much bitterness ? But they desired him to let them 
go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing 
to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, 
but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes in 
sunshiny weather fell into fits), and lost for a time the 
use of his hands ; wherefore he withdrew, and left 
them, as before, to consider what to do. Then did the 
prisoners consult between themselves whether it was 
best to take his counsel or no ; and thus they began to 

Chu. Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? 
The life that we now live is miserable. For my part, 
I know not whether it is best to live thus, or to die and 
have done with it. My soul choose th strangling rather 
than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this 
dungeon. Shall we be ruled by the giant? 

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, 
and death would be far more welcome to me than thus 
forever to abide ; but yet, let us consider, the Lord of 
the country to which we are going hath said, " Thou 
shalt do no murder," no, not to another man's person ; 
much more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel 
to kill ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can 
but commit murder upon his body ; but for one to kill 
himself, is to kill body and soul at once. But, how- 
ever, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a while : 
the time may come that may give us a happy release ; 
but let us not be our own murderers. With these 
words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his 


brother ; so they continued together in the dark that 
day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, towards evening the giant goes down into the 
dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his 
counsel. But when he came there he found them 
alive ; and, truly, alive was all ; for now, what for want 
of bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they 
received when he beat them, they could do little but 
breathe. But, I say, he found them alive ; at which he 
fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that, seeing 
they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with 
them than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that 
Christian fell into a swoon ; but, coming a little to 
himself again, they renewed their discourse about 
the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best 
take it or no. Now Christian again seemed for 
doing it ; but Hopeful made his second reply, as 
followeth : — 

Hope. My brother, said he, rememberest thou not 
how valiant thou hast been heretofore? Apollyon 
could not crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear 
or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 
What hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou al- 
ready gone through ; and art thou now nothing but 
fears? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, 
a far weaker man by nature than thou art. Also, this 
giant hath wounded me as well as thee, and hath also 
cut off the bread and water from my mouth, and with 
thee I mourn without the light. But let us exercise a 
little more patience. Remember how thou playedst the 
man at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the 
chain nor cage, nor yet of bloody death ; wherefore, 
let us (at least to avoid the shame that it becomes not 


a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as 
well as we can. 

Now, night being come again, the giant's wife asked 
him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his 
counsel : to which he replied, They are sturdy rogues ; 
they choose rather to bear all hardships than to make 
away with themselves. Then said she, Take them into 
the castle-yard to-morrow, and show them the bones 
and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, 
and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, 
thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their 
fellows before them. 

So, when the morning was come, the giant goes to 
them again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and 
shows them as his wife had bidden him. These, said 
he, were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed 
on my grounds, as you have done ; and, when I thought 
fit, I tore them in pieces ; and so within ten days I will 
do you. Go, get you down to your den again. And 
with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay, 
therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as 
before. Now, when night was come, Mrs. Diffidence 
and her husband the giant began to renew their dis- 
course of their prisoners ; and, withal, the old giant 
wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel 
bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, 
I fear, said she, that they live in hopes that some will 
come to relieve them ; or that they have picklocks 
about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. 
And say est thou so, my dear ? said the giant. I will 
therefore search them in the morning. 

Well, on Saturda} r , about midnight, they began to 
pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as 


one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech : 
What a fool, said he, am I thus to lie in an evil-smell- 
ing dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! I 
have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I 
am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. 
Then said Hopeful, That is good news : good brother, 
pluck it out of thy bosom, and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began 
to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned 
the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, 
and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he 
went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, 
and with his key opened that door also. After that he 
went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too ; but 
that lock went desperately hard, yet the key did open 
it. They then thrust open the gate to make their 
escape with speed ; but that gate, as it opened, made 
such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who hastily 
rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail ; for 
his fits took him again, so that he could by no means 
go after them. Then they went on and came to the 
King's highway, and so were safe, because they were 
out of his power. 

Now, when they were gone over the stile they began 
to contrive with themselves what they should do at that 
stile to prevent those that should come after from fall- 
ing into the hands of Giant Despair. So they agreed 
to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side 
thereof this sentence : " Over this stile is the way to 
Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who 
despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks 
to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many therefore, that 
followed after, read what was written, and escaped the 



They went then till they came to the Delectable 
Mountains, which mountains belong to the Lord of 
that hill of which we have spoken before. So they 
went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and 
orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water ; where 
also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely 
eat of the vineyards. Now, there were on the tops of 
these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and 
they stood by the highway -side. The pilgrims, there- 
fore, went to them, and leaning upon their staffs (as is 
common with weary pilgrims when they stand to talk 
with any by the way), they asked, Whose Delectable 
Mountains are these ; and whose be the sheep that feed 
upon them? 

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and 
they are within sight of his city ; and the sheep also 
are his, and he laid down his life for them. 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither ? 

Shep. Too far for any but those who shall get 
thither indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe or dangerous ? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but 
transgressors shall fall therein. 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims 
that are weary and faint in the way ? 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us 


a charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers-, 
therefore the good of the place is before you. 

I saw also in my dream, that when the shepherds 
perceived that they were wayfaring men, 1 they also put 
questions to them (to which they made answer as in 
other places), as, Whence came you? and, How got you 
into the way ? and, By what means have you so perse- 
vered therein ? for but few of them that begin to come 
hither, do show their face on these mountains. But 
when the shepherds heard their answers, being pleased 
therewith, they looked very lovingly upon them, and 
said, Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 

The shepherds, I say, whose names were Knowledge, 
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by the 
hand, and had them to their tents, and made them par- 
take of what was ready at present. They said, moreover, 
We would that you should stay here a while, to be ac- 
quainted with us, and yet more to solace yourselves with 
the good of these Delectable Mountains. Then they 
told them that they were content to stay. So the} r 
went to their rest that night, because it was very late. 

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the 
shepherds called up Christian and Hopeful to walk with 
them upon the mountains. So they went forth with 
them, and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect 
on every side. Then said the shepherds one to another, 
Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders ? So, when 
they had concluded to do it, they had them first to the 
top of a hill called Error, which was very steep on the 
farthest side, and bid them look down to the bottom. 
So Christian and Hopeful looked down, and saw at the 
bottom several men dashed all to pieces by a fall that 
they had had from the top. Then said Christian, What 

1 Wayfaring men : Travellers. 


meaneth this ? The shepherds answered, Have you not 
heard of them that were made to err by hearkening to 
false teachers ? They answered, Yes. Then said the 
shepherds, Those that you see lie dashed in pieces at 
the bottom of this mountain are they ; and they have 
continued to this day unburied, as you see, for an 
example to others to take heed how they clamber 
too high, or how they come too near the brink of this 

Then I saw that they had them to the top of another 
mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid 
them look afar off ; which, when they did, they per- 
ceived, as they thought, several men walking up and 
down among the tombs that were there ; and they per- 
ceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled 
sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could not 
get out from among them. Then said Christian, What 
means this ? 

The shepherds then answered, Did you not see, a 
little below these mountains, a stile that led into a 
meadow, on the left hand of this way? They answered, 
Yes. Then said the shepherds, From that stile there 
goes a path that leads directly to Doubting Castle, 
which is kept by Giant Despair ; and these men (point- 
ing to them among the tombs) came once on pilgrimage, 
as you do now, even until they came to that same stile. 
And because the right way was rough in that place, 
they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and there 
were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubting 
Castle ; where, after they had a while been kept in the 
dungeon, he at last did put out their eyes, and led 
them among those tombs, where he has left them to 
wander to this very day ; that the saying of the wise 
man might be fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of the 


way of understanding shall remain in the congregation 
of the dead." Then Christian and Hopeful looked one 
upon another, with tears gushing out, but yet said 
nothing to the shepherds. 

Then said Hopeful to the shepherds, I perceive that 
these had on them, even every one, an appearance of 
pilgrimage, as we have now ; had they not ? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time, too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in 
their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus miser- 
ably cast away? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these 

Then said the pilgrims one to the other, We had 
need to cry to the Strong for strength. 

Shep. Aye, and you will have need to use it, when 
you have it, too. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, 
and the shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked 
together towards the end of the mountains. Then said 
the shepherds one to another, Let us here show the pil- 
grims the gates of the Celestial City, if they have skill 
to look through our spy-glass. The pilgrims then 
lovingly accepted the motion : so they had them to 
the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them the 
glass to iook. 

Then they tried to look ; but the remembrance of 
that last thing that the shepherds had shown them 
made their hands shake, by means of which impediment 
they could not look steadily through the glass ; yet 
they thought they saw something like the gate, and 
also some of the glory of the place. 

When they were about to depart, one of the shep- 
herds gave them a note of the way. Another of them 


bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them 
take heed that they slept not upon the Enchanted 
Ground. And the fourth bid them God speed. So I 
awoke from my dream. 


And I slept and dreamed again, and saw the same 
two pilgrims going down the mountains along the high- 
way towards the city. Now, a little below these moun- 
tains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Conceit, 
from which country there comes into the way in which 
the pilgrims walked a little crooked lane. Here, there- 
fore, they met with a very brisk lad that came out of 
that country, and his name was Ignorance. So Chris- 
tian asked him from what parts he came, and whither 
he was going. 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off 
there, a little on the left hand, and I am going to the 
Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate, 
for you may find some difficulty there ? 

Ignor. As other good people do, said he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that 
the gate should be opened to you ? 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a good 
liver ; I pay every man his own ; I pray, fast, support 
the church, and give alms, and have left my country for 
whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the wicket-gate, 
that is, at the head of this way ; thou earnest in hither 


through that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, 
however thou mayest think of thyself, when the reckon- 
ing-day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy charge, 
that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of getting 
admittance into the city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me ; I 
know you not ; be content to follow the religion of 
your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. I 
hope all will be well. And as for the gate that you 
talk of, all the world knows that it is a great way off of 
our country. I cannot think that any man in all our 
parts doth so much as know the way to it ; nor need 
they mind whether they do or no, since we have, as 
you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that comes clown 
from our country, the next way into the way. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his 
own conceit, he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, " There 
is more hope of a fool than of him." And said, more- 
over, " When he that is a fool walketh by the way, his 
wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every one that he is 
a fool." What, shall we talk further with him, or outgo 
him at present, and so leave him to think of what he 
hath heard already, and then stop again for him after- 
wards, and see if by degrees we can do any good by 
him ? 

So they both went on, and Ignorance came after. 
Now, when they had passed him a little way, they en- 
tered into a very dark lane, where they met a man whom 
seven evil spirits had bound with seven strong cords, 
and were carrying him back to the door that they saw 
on the side of the hill. Now good Christian began to 
tremble, and so did Hopeful, his companion ; yet, as 
the evil spirits led away the man, Christian looked to 
see if he knew him ; and he thought it might be one 



Turnaway, that dwelt in the town of Apostasy. But 
he did not perfectly see his face, for he did hang his 
head like a thief that is found ont. 

Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to my 
remembrance that which was told me of a thing that 
happened to a good man hereabout. The name of the 
man was Littlefaith ; but a good man, and he dwelt 
in the town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the 
entering in at this passage, there comes down from 
Broadway-gate a lane, called Deadman's lane ; so called 
because of the murders that are commonly done there ; 
and this Littlefaith going on a pilgrimage, as we do now, 
chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now there hap- 
pened at that time to come down the lane from Broad- 
way-gate, three sturdy rogues, and their names were 
Faintheart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three brothers; and 
they, espying Littlefaith where he was, came galloping 
up with speed. Now, the good man was just awakened 
from his sleep, and was getting up to go on his journey. 
So they all came up to him, and with threatening lan- 
guage bid him stand. At this, Littlefaith looked as 
white as a sheet, and had neither power to fight nor fly. 
Then said Faintheart, Deliver thy purse ; but he mak- 
ing no haste to do it (for he was loth to lose his money), 
Mistrust ran up to him, and thrusting his hand into his 
pocket, pulled out thence a bag of silver. Then he 
cried out, Thieves, thieves ! With that Guilt, with a 
great club that was in his hand, struck Littlefaith on 
the head, and with that blow felled him flat to the 
ground, where he lay bleeding as one that would bleed 
to death. All this while the thieves stood by. But, 
at last, they hearing that some were upon the road, and 
fearing lest it should be one Greatgrace, that dwells in 
the town of Good-Confidence, they betook themselves 


to their heels, and left this good man to shift for him- 
self. Now, after a while, Littlefaith came to himself, 
and getting up, made shift to scramble on his way. 
This was the story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that ever he 
had ? 

Chr. No; the place where his jewels were they 
never ransacked ; so those he kept still. But, as I was 
told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss ; for 
the thieves got most of his spending-money. That 
which they got not, as I said, were jewels ; also, he had 
a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring him 
to his journey's end. Nay (if I was not misinformed). 
he was forced to beg as he went, to keep himself alive, 
for his jewels he might not sell ; but beg and do what 
he could, he Avent hungry the most part of the w r ay. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from 
him his certificate, by which he was to receive his ad- 
mittance at the Celestial Gate ? 

Chr. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though 
they missed it not through any good cunning of his ; 
for he, being dismayed by their coming upon him, had 
neither power nor skill to hide anything ; so it was 
more by good providence than by his endeavor that 
they missed of that good thing. 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They 
went on till they came to a place where they saw a 
way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie 
as straight as the way which they should go ; and here 
they knew not which of the two to take, for both 
seemed straight before them : therefore, here they stood 
still to consider. And, as they were thinking about 
the way, behold, a man, black of flesh, but covered 
with a very white robe, came to them, and asked their 


why they stood there. They answered, they were going 
to the Celestial City, but knew not which of these 
ways to take. " Follow me," said the man, " it is 
thither that I am going." So they followed him in the 
way that but now came into the road, which by degrees 
turned, and turned them so far from the city that they 
desired to go to, that in a little time their faces were 
turned away from it ; yet they followed him. But, by 
and by, before they were aware, he led them both with- 
in the compass of a net, in which they were both so 
entangled that they knew not what to do ; and with that 
the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then they 
saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay crying 
some time, for they could not get themselves out. 

Chr. Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I 
see myself in an error. Did not the shepherds bid us 
beware of the Flatterer ? As is the saying of the wise 
man, so we have found it this day : u A man that rlat- 
tereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net for his feet." 

Hope. The} r also gave us a note of directions about 
the way, for our more sure finding thereof ; but therein 
we have also forgotten to read, and have not kept our- 
selves from the paths of the destroyer. Here David 
was wiser than we ; for saith he, " Concerning the 
works of men, by the word of Thy lips I have kept me 
from the paths of the destroyer." Thus they lay be- 
wailing themselves in the net. At last they espied a 
Shining One coming towards them, with a whip of 
small cords in his hand. When he was come to the 
place where they were, he asked them whence they 
came, and what they did there. They told him that 
they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led 
out of their way by a black man clothed in white, who 
bid us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither, 


too. Then said lie with the whip, it is Flatterer, a 
false apostle, that hath transformed himself into an 
angel of light. So he rent the net, and let the men out. 
Then said he to them, Follow me, that I may set you 
in your way again. So he led them back to the way 
which they had left to follow the Flatterer. Then he 
asked them, saying, Where did you lie the last night? 
They said, With the shepherds upon the Delectable 
Mountains. He asked them then if they had not of the 
shepherds a note of direction for the way. The} r an- 
swered, Yes. But did you not, said he, when you were 
at a stand, pluck out and read your note? They 
answered, No. He asked them, Why? They said they 
forgot. He asked, moreover, if the shepherds did not 
bid them beware of the Flatterer. They answered, 
Yes ; but we did not imagine, said they, that this fine- 
spoken man was he. 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them 
to lie down ; which, when they did, he chastised them 
sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should 
walk ; and as he chastised them, he said, " As many as 
I love, I rebuke and chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and 
repent." This done, he bids them to go on their way, and 
take good heed to the other directions of the shepherds. 

Now, after awhile, they perceived afar off, one coming 
softly and alone, all along the highway, to meet them. 
Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a man 
with his back toward Zion, and he is coming to meet us. 

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now, 
lest he should prove a Flatterer, also. So he drew 
nearer and nearer, and at last came up to them. His 
name was Atheist, and he asked them whither they 
were going. 

Che,. We are going to Mount Zion. 


Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Chr. What's the meaning of your laughter ? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you 
are to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are 
like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be re- 
ceived ? 

Atheist. Received ! There is not such a place as 
you dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in w\y own country 
I heard as you now affirm ; and from that hearing, went 
out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty 
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I 
set out. 

Chr. We have both heard, and believe, that there is 
such a place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had 
not come thus far to seek ; but finding none (and yet I 
should, had there been such a place to be found, for 
I have gone to seek it farther than you), I am going 
back again, and will seek to refresh myself with the 
things that I then cast away for hopes of that which 
I now see is not. 

Chr. Then said Christian to Hopeful, his compan- 
ion, Is it true which this man hath said ? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the Flatterers. Re- 
member what it cost us once already for our hearkening 
to such kind of fellows. What! No Mount Zion ! Did 
we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate of 
the city ? Also, are we not now to walk by faith ? Let us 
go on, lest the man with the whip overtake us again. 
You should have taught me that lesson, which I will 
sound you in the ears withal : " Cease, my son, to hear 


the instruction that causeth to err from the words of 
knowledge." I say, my brother, cease to hear him, and 
let us " believe to the saving of the soul." 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee, 
for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, but 
to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the hon- 
esty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he is 
blinded by the god of this world. Let us both go on ; 
knowing that we have belief of the truth ; and " no lie 
is of the truth." 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 

So they turned away from the man ; and he, laughing 
at them, went his way. 

I then saw in my dream, that they went on until they 
came into a certain country whose air naturally tended 
to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. 
And here Hopeful began to be very dull and heavy to 
sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now begin 
to grow so drowsy that I can scarcely hold open mine 
eyes ; let us lie down here, and take one nap. 

Che,. By no means, said the other ; lest, sleeping, we 
never awake more. 

Hope. Why, my brother, sleep is sweet to the labor- 
ing man : we may be refreshed, if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the shep- 
herds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground ? He 
meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping; 
"therefore, let us not sleep, as do others; but let us 
watch, and be sober." 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I 
been here alone, I had, by sleeping, run the danger of 
death. I see it is true that the wise man saith, " Two are 
better than one." Hitherto hath thy company been my 
mercy ; and thou shalt have a good reward for thy labor. 


I saw then, in my dream, that Hopeful looked back, 
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming 
after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder 
youngster loitereth behind. 

Chr. Aye, aye, I see him : he careth not for our 

Hope. But I think it would not have hurt him, had 
he kept pace with us hitherto. 

Chr. That is true ; but I warrant you he thinketh 

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us 
tarry for him. 

So they did. 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man ; why 
do you stay so behind? 

Ignor. You go so fast I cannot keep pace with you 
Do you go on before ; I must stay awhile behind. 



Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fel- 
iow : — 

Chr. Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that 
thou and I must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw in my dream, that they went on apace 
before, and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then 
said Christian to his companion, I much pity this poor 
man ; it will certainly go ill with him at last. 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in 
his condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and 
that of pilgrims, too ; and if there be so many in our 
parts, how many, think you, must there be in the place 
where he was born ? 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the pil- 
grims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and enter- 
ing into the country of Beulah, whose air was very 
sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, 
they solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here 
they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw 
every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard 
the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country 
the sun shineth night and day : wherefore this was 
beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also 
out of the reach of Giant Despair ; neither could they 
from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here 
they were within sight of the city they were going to ; 
also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof ; 
for in this land the shining ones commonly walked, 
because it was upon the borders of heaven. 


Now, as they walked in this land, they had more re- 
joicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to 
which they were bound ; and drawing near to the city, 
they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was 
builded of pearls and precious stones, also the streets 
thereof were paved with gold ; so that, by reason of 
the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the 
sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick. 
Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease. 
Wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out, be- 
cause of their pangs, " If you see my Beloved, tell Him 
that I am sick of love." 

But being a little strengthened, and better able to 
bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and 
came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vine- 
yards, and gardens, and their gates opened into the 
highway. Now, as they came up to these places, be- 
hold, the gardener stood in the way ; to whom the pil- 
grims said, Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are 
these ? He answered, They are the King's, and are 
planted here for His own delight, and also for the sol- 
ace of pilgrims. So the gardener had them into the 
vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with the 
dainties ; he also showed them there the King's walks 
and arbors, where He delighted to be. And here they 
tarried and slept. 

So I saw that, when they awoke, they made them- 
selves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the re- 
flection of the sun upon the city — for the city was 
pure gold — was so extremely glorious, that they could 
not as yet with open face behold it, but through an 
instrument made for that purpose. So I saw that as 
they went on, there met them two men in raiment that 
shone like gold, also their faces shone as the light. 


These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; 
and they told them. They also asked them where they 
had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what com- 
forts and pleasures, they had met with in the way : 
and they told them. Then said the men that met 
them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, 
and then you are in the city. 

Christian then, and his companion, asked the men 
to go along with them ; so they told them that they 
would ; but, said they, you must obtain it by your own 
faith. So I saw in my dream, that they went on to- 
gether till they came in sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate 
was a river ; but there was no bridge to go over, and 
the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of 
this river the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the 
men that went with them said, You must go through, 
or you cannot come at the gate. 

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no 
other way to the gate. To which they answered, Yes ; 
but there hath not any, save two, Enoch and Elijah, 
been permitted to tread that path since the foundation 
of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet shall 
sound. The pilgrims then, especially Christian, began 
to despond in their mind, and looked this way and that, 
but no way could be found by them by which they 
might escape the river. Then they asked the men if 
the waters were all of a depth. They said, No ; yet 
they could not help them in that case ; for, said they, 
you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in 
the King of the place. 

Then they made themselves ready to enter the water, 
and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out 
to his good friend Hopeful, he said, " I sink in deep 


waters ; the billows go over my head ; all His waves 
go over me." 

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother. 
I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, 
Ah, my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed 
me about, I shall not see the land that flows with milk 
and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror 
fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. 
Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that 
he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of 
those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the 
way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spoke 
still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and 
heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never 
obtain entrance in at the gate. Here also, as they that 
stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome 
thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since 
and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also ob- 
served that he was troubled with apparitions or hob- 
goblins and evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would 
intimate so much by words. 

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his 
brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would 
be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would 
rise up again half dead. Hopeful did also endeavor to 
comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men 
standing by to receive us. But Christian would answer, 
It is you, it is you they wait for ; for you have been 
hopeful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said 
he to Christian. Ah, brother (said he), surely if I was 
right He would now arise to help me ; but for my sins 
He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. 
Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot 
the text, where it is said of the wicked, " There are no 


bands in their death, but their strength is firm ; they 
are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued 
like other men." These troubles and distresses that you 
go through in these waters, are no sign that God hath 
forsaken you ; but are sent to try you, whether you will 
call to mind that which heretofore you have received of 
His goodness, and live upon Him in your distresses. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a deep 
thought a while. To whom also Hopeful added these 
words, Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee 
whole. And with that Christian broke out with a loud 
voice, Oh, I see Him again, and He tells me, " When 
thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." 
Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after 
that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. 
Christian, therefore, presently found ground to stand 
upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was 
but shallow. Thus they got over. 

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, 
they saw the two shining men again, who there waited 
for them. Wherefore, being come out of the river, 
they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, 
sent forth to minister to those that shall be the heirs of 
salvation. Thus they went along towards the gate. 

Now you must note, that the city stood upon a 
mighty hill, but the pilgrims went up that hill with 
ease, because they had these two men to lead them up 
by the arms : they had likewise left their mortal gar- 
ments behind them in the river ; for though they went 
in with them, they came out without them. They 
therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation upon which the cit\ was framed 
was higher than the clouds ; they therefore went up 



through the region of the air, sweetly talking as they went, 
being comforted because they had safely got over the 
river, and had such glorious companions to attend the in. 

The talk that they had with the shining ones was 
about the glory of the place ; who told them that the 
beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said 
they, is " Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the in- 
numerable company of angels, and the spirits of just 
men made perfect." You are going now, said they, to 
the paradise of God, wherein you shall see the tree of 
life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof : and ' 
when you come there you shall have white robes given 
you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with 
the King, even all the days of eternity. 

Now, while they were thus drawing towards the gate, 
behold, a company of the heavenly host came out to 
meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two shin- 
ing ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord 
when they were in the world, and that have left all for 
His holy name ; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and 
we have brought them thus far on their desired jour- 
ney, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in 
the face with joy. Then the heavenly host gave a 
great shout, saying, " Blessed are they that are called 
to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." There came out 
also at this time to meet them several of the King's 
trumpeters clothed in white and shining raiment, who, 
with melodious noises and loud, made even the heavens 
to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted 
Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes 
from the Celestial City ; and this they did with shouts 
ing and sound of trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every side ; 
some went before, some behind, and some on the right 


hand, and some on the left (as it were to guard them 
through the upper regions), continually sounding as 
they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high ; so 
that the very sight was to them that could behold it as 
if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus, 
therefore, they walked on together ; and, as the}^ 
walked, these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, 
would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, 
still signify to Christian and his brother how welcome 
they were to their company, and with what gladness 
thev came to meet them. And now were these two 
men, as it were, in heaven, before they came to it, 
being carried away with the sight of angels, and with 
hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had 
the city itself in view ; and they thought they heard all 
the bells therein to ring, to welcome them thereto. 
But, above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they 
had about their own dwelling there with such company, 
and that for ever and ever ; oh, by what tongue or pen 
can their glorious joy be expressed ! Thus they came 
up to the gate. 

Now when they were come up to the gate, there was 
written over it, in letters of gold, 


Then I saw in my dream, that the shining men bid 
them call at the gate ; the which when they did, some 
from above looked over the gate ; namely, Enoch, Moses, 
and Elijah, and others, to whom it Avas said, These pil- 
grims are come from the City of Destruction, for the 
love that they bear to the King of this place : and then 


the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, 
. which they had received in the beginning. Those, 
therefore, were carried in unto the King, who, when He 
had read them, said, Where are the men ? To whom 
it was answered, They are standing without the gate. 
The King then commanded to open the gate, " That 
the righteous nation (said He) that keepeth the truth 
may enter in." 

Now I saw in my dream, that these two men went 
in at the gate ; and lo, as they entered, they were 
transfigured ; and they had raiment put on that shone 
like gold. There were also some that met them with 
harps and crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to 
praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then 
I heard in my dream, that all the bells in the city rang 
again for joy, and that it was said unto them, 


I also heard the men themselves sing with a loud voice, 


Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, 
I looked in after them, and behold, the city shone like the 
sun ; the streets also were paved with gold : and in them 
walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in 
their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal. 

There were also of them that had wings, and they 
answered one another without intermission, saying, 
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord. And after that they shut 
up the gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself 
among them. 


H 70 86 i 



- 1, 


* A^ ^ 

o . * * A, ^ ' " M 

<^ v o « o ^ i Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 

; PreservationTechnologies \4 

O ♦o^o' .0 "^ *" » , t ♦ 111 Thomson Park Drive 

, "*>v rtV « .o ***^ .^ Cranberry Township, PA 16066 

s * & -A JlV •!, °*. ^ V (724)779-2111 i 

". ^. J& • 4 A^^/U # o ^. .^ 


r oV T 

4 C> 


<j> - S • • , Vs <V 

^ •' 


014 158 704 3 #